


The House on the Ocean Road

by coffeeandcas



Series: California Blue Skies [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Car Accidents, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Dean-Centric, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Drowning, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of past child death, Near Death Experiences, POV Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Parent Castiel, Parent Dean, Parent Dean Winchester, Past Character Death, Single Parent Castiel, Slow Burn, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 111,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcas/pseuds/coffeeandcas
Summary: Dean Winchester is on the run from his life. He's done something unforgivable, and can't face his family or friends ever again. So he does what any rational person would do: fakes his own death and vanishes into the ether.Wandering aimlessly along country roads, he succumbs to the elements during a violent storm and wakes up hours later in the home of a stranger: a single dad living alone in an isolated beach house, with a haunting past of his own. Cas is sweet and shy, but welcomes Dean into his home and tells him he can stay as long as he needs, never prying into his life or asking him to spill his secrets.As they rapidly forge a close friendship, Dean finds that the quiet life by the ocean with Cas is exactly what he's been dreaming of. He only hopes his past never catches up with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This originally was my idea for DCBB, but I now have something else in mind for that. This is my version of an Epic Love Story between Dean and Cas, so expect angst, slow burn and lots of eventual romance. 
> 
> I'm still fairly new at writing children into fics, so any pointers would be good; I want to get their language/development as accurate as possible. As you know, comments help me write quicker and I cherish feedback ♡ ♡

When Dean first lays eyes on Castiel, thunder is crashing outside and lightning splits the skies. He doesn't learn Castiel’s name until hours later, but what he does learn with that first, fleeting glance is that this is a kind, caring man who could maybe be the reason he stays alive. Then darkness consumes Dean again as he passes out once more.

*

He doesn't remember anything. Wisps of memory twist and curl just out of reach, and he feels like he's drowning in darkness. Dean gasps, cries out, and tries to sit up in a room that's too dim and too hot, and he's claustrophobic under the weight of something holding him down. He's soaking, skin slick and greasy, and his throat is burning too painfully to swallow or speak a word. Every muscle, every joint, every fibre and hair follicle and atom in his body _burns_ and in spite of himself he lets out a choked sob into the thick heat of an unknown room. He can't see; whether it's too dark or there's something wrong with his eyes he doesn't know, but it's terrifying and disorientating, and as he heaves in desperate breath into parched lungs he thinks he can see the outline of a window frame swimming somewhere off to his left. And he thinks there's someone nearby. Is that a voice? Is someone speaking? Are hands touching him? He tries to twist away,it his limbs won't cooperate, aching and too heavy to lift.

The world tilts violently, bile stings his lips, and he passes into blissful unconsciousness.

*

Time passes slowly. It could be hours, days or months, Dean has no idea. He can't differentiate between sleep and consciousness, has no idea if he's dreaming or hallucinating, but he knows he's nowhere familiar. The sheets covering him are too soft and smell different to his own at home, and the bed is too comfortable. It feels like he's lying on a cloud, andhis head and shoulders are definitely supported by more than one pillow. Feathers, certainly - he's been poked by them once or twice.

Has he been in an accident? Has something happened to him? He isn't sure, can't quite place the scraps of memory that taunt him before slinking away. But he still can't find the energy to care too much. 

There’s someone kneeling at his bedside. The room is dim and hot, and he twists and thrashes under too many covers. At least, he tries to, but his limbs feel like they’ve been filed with lead and he realises he hasn’t, in fact, moved an inch. A low moan builds in his throat, and he feels someone take his hand. Above him, a face blurs and he tries very hard to focus on it, while feeling like his skin is going to burn off. Dark, messy hair. Blue sparkling eyes. Concerned frown and head tilt. Nausea hits him like a tidal wave and he only just manages to lurch to the side before he vomits everywhere, tears streaming down his sweat-drenched cheeks and making him moan at the discomfort of it all. He tries to push the man away, needs space, doesn’t _want_ the cool towel at his forehead or at his mouth, wiping away the bile. He wants to sleep.

As though reading his mind, the man pulls away, goes to the door, and Dean follows his movements with sore, tired eyes, unable to do much more than turn his head. The man is silhouetted in the doorway, kneeling down and reaching for something. Someone.

“No…” He’s speaking quietly, making gentle gestures and directing someone who stands just outside the door. Dean’s head spins, and he's forced to close his eyes to fight off another wave of nausea. He thinks he hears a second voice, but he’s not sure and he’s too tired to care. “Go back to bed…no…he needs help, that's why. Go to bed, please. I'll be there soon. Thank you.”

He doesn’t know where he is, who that man is, what’s wrong with him, or what the hell is happening, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care about anything. He starts to shake again, cold but burning, and he lets out a low whimper of distress and fear.

“Hey, it's OK. I'm here, shh. You're all right.”

The manis back, touches Dean’s forehead with a cool rag, and it feels like he's being scalded. He tries to twist away but, sapped of his strength, he can barely move his arms and has to settle for a weak cry of distress. He manages to reach up and wrap his fingers around a slim wrist, and feels muscles shifting beneath his grasp. Worried blue eyes gaze down at him, dark eyebrow furrowed and when he speaks his teeth flash a perfect white.

“You have a fever, a bad one. I thought it broke last night… I'm doing all I can. But please. Let me help.”

“N-no.” Dean rasps, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. “‘M fine…”

He tries once again to push himself up off the bed, to sit up and look around, but his body defiantly won't cooperate. His limbs ache, and his skin feels sticky and dirty with his own sweat. The room tilts frighteningly, and Dean allows himself to be pushed gently back to lie down, and that's when he starts shivering and can't stop.

“Hey,” the man frowns in the dark, not allowing Dean to bat him away. “If you don't allow me to help, I'll have to take you to the hospital…” Dean shakes his head as frantically as he can manage. “And I don't want to do that. The coast road is too dangerous in this storm. Now,” the sound of a washcloth being wrung out again reaches Dean’s ears and he steels himself for the inevitable cold burn. The sound of the water stings his ears; in contrast, the stranger’s husky murmur is soothing. He feels like he should trust him. “Please. Let me help you.”

The man wipes his burning forehead for what feels like hours. Dean slips in and out of consciousness, and at one point when he wakes he’s sure he’s shirtless and the man, handsome and studious-looking, is running a damp cloth over his stomach and pecs. He trembles when he does wake, freezing and shivering, trying valiantly to push the blankets off him but failing miserably. He can’t control whines and moans of pain, as every muscle and bone in his body aches and feels like it’s burning, and with every sound that leaves his lips his throat screams out at him in agony. The dark-haired man is at his side again, concern furrowing his brow, shushing him and letting him sip cool water through a straw. His hands are cool, brushing his hair off his forehead and taking his clammy hand in both of his.

“I’m Cas. Cas Novak.”

Not for the first time, Dean thinks he's hearing the voice of an angel. He hears the words through a blurry haze, and manages to respond with ‘D-Dean. W-Winch-ches-chester’.

“You might have to write that one down,” Cas smiles and Dean nods as his teeth chatter. “Now, try and rest for me. I'll be back soon.”

And Dean is left alone again, and he holds out as long as he can, but eventually can't help it: it could be seconds of hours later, and he's calling out for Cas. He’s never had a fever this bad, and during the dark, lonely hours of the night he convinces himself he’s dying. Then Cas appears back at his side again, soothing and calming him and whispering words of care and affection, and he thinks he might just live. Might just want to.

*

His fever breaks eventually, and Cas’ relief is written all over his face. Dean sleeps for a full day, only stirring to sip the water that Cas holds for him or to be helped along to the bathroom. He barely remembers it, barely feels like time is passing at all. Cas’ voice is warm and enveloping, the bed comfortable, and that’s all he knows. The weight of the last few months combined with a raging fever has sapped him of his energy, in every sense of the word, and lying in a dark room with a stranger feels like that’s all he deserves now. While Cas seems kind, who knows if he’s a decent guy? He could be a mad axe-murderer, waiting for Dean to be fully coherent before acting out his fantasises.

Somehow, through the fog, Dean doubts that very much.

*

Dean finally feels well enough to get up on the fifth day. t least, he thinks it's the fifth. It could be the twenty-fifth. Cas had laid some clothes out on a chair for him, along with a fluffy towel and a pair of worn flip-flops, and Dean gathers them up gratefully and sticks his head out of the door, tentatively seeking the bathroom. He still aches, and his limbs feel like lead, but he's up and on his feet and neither collapsing nor vomiting. Small blessings, he supposes. He thinks he remembers where it is - third door down the corridor to the left - but for a moment he's stunned by the room in front of him.

A sprawling, spacious kitchen-diner with an island standing proudly in the centre, sunken living area off to the left, and two whole walls of solid glass with sliding doors, the whole room softly decorated in muted, earthy tones with a few possessions and trinkets scattered about. Well-loved blankets litter the sofa, a low bookcase showcases novels with broken spines and folded pages, and the scent in the air is cinnamon and something buttery-sweet. Beautiful artwork lines the walls, and Dean reaches out to touch one of the canvases, stopping just before his fingertips make contact with the rough paint. But all that pales in comparison to what lies outside, beyond the glass walls, a sight that captures Dean’s gaze and holds him in awe. The house is practically on the beach, looking out onto white sands and the rolling, thrashing ocean which looks refreshing and inviting in the warm glow of the early morning light. It can't be much after five am: the sky is awash with reds, oranges and purples, and the sunrise can only be minutes away. Dean is pretty sure he's never seen anything so beautiful; Texas certainly doesn't have beaches like this, and neither do any of the cities he's frequented over the years. His breath hitches and he feels on the verge of tears.

A strange sense of calm descends over him as he watches the waves crash and ebb, standing pinned in place hugging the pile of clothes and towels to his chest, and it's so unfamiliar that he shudders against it. The house is silent and still, and Dean moves quietly so as not to disturb anyone. He intends to shower as discretely and quickly as possible, then maybe sit out on the deck and watch the sun come up. He has no idea what he's doing with his life now, where he's going or what to do, but some time alone might help clear his head while he works out a plan. He nudges open the door that he thinks leads to the bathroom and freezes in shock as he realises he's made an error. Then, as his eyes adjust to the dim light but before he can reach for the handle to pull it closed, his gaze lands on the bed and again, he's captivated.

The man who’s been caring for him in the throes of a fever, Cas, is asleep on his side, shirtless, facing away from Dean. His left arm is thrown out in front of him with his tanned skin standing out starkly against pure white sheets. They’re drawn up to his hips, exposing smooth expanses of skin and a narrow strip of burnt-orange boxer shorts waistband disappearing under the covers - the chosen colour of only serves to accentuate the honeyed tones of his sun tan, and Dean feels an ebb of guilt at checking out the guys pants while he sleeps. He changes his focus a little: the far wall of the spacious bedroom is floor-to-ceiling glass as well, identical to the living area, but most of it is obscured by a blind pulled down low, presumably to block out the sunlight streaming in. The room is beautiful, all smooth lines and well-loved furniture, piles of books and blankets on the floor by the bed. Everywhere he's seen in the house so far is a curiously enticing mix of minimalistic sleek lines and low furniture, with a good dose of bohemian flair. Dean's attention wanders slowly back to Cas. His hair is messy and standing on end, and Dean can't help but let his gaze wander along the planes of Cas’ back, his muscled shoulders, the arch of his neck and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He knows he's staring, and that he shouldn't, but it's as though he's under some kind of spell. The only sounds breaking the early morning silence are the deep inhales and exhales of Cas as he dreams, a few feet away on the bed, and the beautiful crashing of the waves outside. Against his better judgment, Dean edges into the room, wanting to look just a little closer. When he does, his breath catches in his throat. 

Cas’ eyes are closed, peaceful in sleep, and in his arms all snuggled up against his chest is a sight that makes Dean’s heart ache pleasantly. A dark-haired little boy of no more than four is curled up, thumb firmly in his mouth and dark eyelashes fanning out on tanned cheeks. His hair and skin are the same tones as Cas’, and he's using Cas’ outstretched arm as a pillow, face buried contentedly against his father’s chest. The man has his other arm wrapped securely around him, holding him close to his chest in a protective embrace, both of them fast asleep cuddled together, unaware of their audience. A small, well-loved rabbit is squashed between them, beige fur and pink nose, all floppy ears and glassy eyes. The child must be the other voice Dean heard in the house, the person Cas spoke to outside the bedroom, and the sight of them curled together beats the beauty of the ocean outside by a country mile. 

Dean can't help but stare for a long, long moment then, before a choked sob can break free from his lips, he steps back and turns away, taking deep breaths in slowly through his nose to calm his racing heart. He tries the next door with only slightly shaky hands, and succeeds in finding the bathroom. His aches and pains are forgotten, but he now feels like he's going to faint or vomit, or both at once. He turns the shower on, strips, steps in, and slides down the wall until he’s curled into a ball on the floor.

In a bathroom belonging to a total stranger, at five in the morning and with no clue what his life means any more, he drags his knees up to his chest and, burying his face in his arms, begins to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean finally, _finally_ , manages to turn the shower off and dress himself, he’s used up all the hot water. Guilt drags at him as he wipes the mirror to look at his reflection for the first time in days. He's drawn and haggard, skin pale under his tan and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks bloody _awful_ , like he was run over by a train, a train that decided to come back for a second go. He didn't think it could be possible to feel worse than he already does, but then his gaze falls to his chest and his visible collarbones make him screw his eyes shut in distress. He's far too skinny these days, but eating right and taking proper care of himself haven't been on the agenda for a long time. He's been doing the bare minimum to get by, and it's taken its toll on his body. He wonders if Cas has anything to eat, and in that same instant wonders where his wallet is and how he can pay Cas back for his hospitality. His mind wanders to the beautiful shirtless man lying asleep in bed, with his child cradled in his arms. Cas is a good person, that much is evident. Too good for Dean to be around. He should leave before his darkness seeps into another innocent life.

He makes an attempt to tame his wet hair then, as the smell of breakfast becomes stronger in the steam-filled bathroom, gives up and dresses slowly, shakily, on legs that don't feel like they can hold his weight. He still feels ill, like a bad hangover combined with the flu, and has to brace himself on the wall as he wanders towards the kitchen, determined not to fall and embarrass himself any further. He follows his nose, follows the smell of coffee and bacon, and finds Cas in the kitchen with his back to him, standing at the cooker and humming an off-key tune to himself, oblivious to Dean’s presence.

He stares for a moment. Stares at the white t-shirt hugging Cas’ back with the holes at the seams, well-worn and well-loved, the collar stretched wide and almost hanging off one shoulder. Stares at the grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, a stripe of tanned lower back showing. Stares at the dark curls at the nape of his neck, at the way his hands move confidently and with purpose as he cracks eggs into a bowl and adds sugar and flour - _pancakes_ , Dean’s hazy brain supplies and instantly his mouth waters. He just stares. Then, feeling awkward and intrusive, coughs, and Cas turns to him with a smile that will devastate Dean’s dreams for the rest of his life. Fuck if Cas isn't absolutely _perfect_. What the hell kind of utopia has he walked into?

“You're up!” Cas has a smudge of flour on his lower lip. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” _Awful_. “Thanks to you.” Dean smiles, but it's brittle and his body aches with pain. Cas, worried, pulls out a stool and gestures for him to sit down at the opposite side of the wide breakfast bar and plonks a glass of orange juice in front of him.

“Here. You must be half-starved, I could barely get you to eat or drink a thing. Pancakes with bacon and maple syrup OK?”

“Sounds…” _Heavenly_. “Great. Thanks.”

“No problem. Five minutes and they're yours.” Cas busies himself again at the cooker, and Dean watches the waves crash on the beach outside, absently twisting his hands together. He has a hundred questions - no, strike that, a million. Where is he? Who is Cas and why did he help him? What happened? Is Cas single…? _No, Dean, not the time. Not now, not ever. You hear me? Never._

A movement to his left startles him, and he's drawn to a large pair of blue eyes peeking out from the side of the breakfast bar, framed by scruffy dark hair and a shy smile. Dean smiles back, and the little boy hides with a giggle, before poking his head out once more to look at Dean. Dean, who has to look away because he weirdly feels like he might cry. He's distracted momentarily by Cas saying no to something and he wonders for a second if it's directed at him. But no, the other man is looking at a spot a few feet below him, hidden by the breakfast bar, and Dean has to double take to make sure he isn't imagining it. Nope, Cas is definitely talking to someone, telling them no, that they have to wait, and Dean wonders which out of the pair of them is going mad. Because it _seems_ like Cas is talking to his child, who is very definitely making silly faces at Dean from a good distance away on the other side of the kitchen and is definitely not down at Cas’ feet. Seconds later, the mystery is solved.

“William!” Cas’ attention is suddenly drawn to the little boy, who giggles and covers his mouth with both hands. Dean can't help but smile at him. “Stop bothering Dean, he's exhausted and needs to take it easy. Go and sit down, please.”

“ _Billie_ , daddy, not _William.”_ A very small voice comes from somewhere near Castiel’s feet and, as Cas notices the confused furrowing of Dean’s brow, he leans down and scoops up a second little boy, identical to the first in every way, who stares at Dean with wide eyes for just a second before burying his face in his father’s neck. Cas laughs quietly, shifting the kid so he’s resting on his hip, one strong arm under his bottom so he doesn't fall, leaving his other arm free to continue making breakfast. Dean does a double take, looking between the two identical little boys, then back at Cas.

“Holy shit, there's two of them.”

Billie lets out a pleased giggle, and Cas’ lips tighten almost imperceptibly, and it takes Dean a moment to work out what he's said.

“I mean… oh crap, sorry Cas, I didn't mean to swear. Aw shit, I just did it again, didn't I? Oh god!” Dean leans his elbows on the counter and buries his face in his hands, flushing with embarrassment. _Way to go, jerk._

“It's all right, Dean. Don't worry about it.” He peeks through his fingers at Cas, who is smiling warmly at him. “And yes, there are two of them. That's Billie, making silly faces at you, and this one is Lexie. William and Alexander really, but they seem to have an aversion to their full names.” Cas smirks, shifting his kid in his arms again, and the little boy peeks at Dean, then hides his face again “Lexie is pretty shy, but he'll come around. That one,” Cas points to Billie, who has walked up to Dean and is tracing patterns on the back of the chair next to him, staring up at the stranger in his house with apparent fascination. “Will keep you entertained for hours.” Cas pauses, then says as an afterthought, “You don't mind kids, do you?”

“No, of course not.” Dean is aware of the tremor in his voice, and coughs to try and cover it. Hopefully Cas will think it's down to his illness and nothing more. “Twins, wow. They must keep you busy. You and your… wife?”

Cas doesn't say anything, just continues to cook breakfast with holding Lexie in one arm. He does everything so deftly with one hand that it must be a familiar experience for him. At Dean’s feet, Billie taps him on the knee.

“Can you swim?”

“I, uh, guess so.” Dean twists his fingers together, anxiety rushing through him. He has no idea how to converse with children; Cas makes it look so easy. The smell of bacon is making his mouth water, and he refrains from asking how long breakfast will be. He's already taken too much advantage of Cas’ goodwill.

“Daddy let us swim in the _ocean_ yesterday.” Billie proclaims proudly. “Well. _I_ swam. Lexie doesn't know how.”

“Yes, he does.” A clatter draws Dean’s attention, and he turns to see a plate stacked high with freshly-made blueberry pancakes topped with strips of crispy bacon, all drenched in maple syrup staring up at him and his stomach gives an interested growl. “Here, Dean. I hope it's all right.” Cas sets Lexie down behind the counter somewhere and busies himself with making the twins’ breakfasts. “And I think ‘swimming in the ocean’ is a slight exaggeration, Billie. Paddling is more accurate.”

“We _swam_ , daddy.” Billie sounds cheerfully exasperated, and Dean can't help but smile around a mouthful of the most heavenly pancakes he's ever tasted. Fluffy, buttery goodness, and the sharpness of the blueberries combined with the rich sugar of the maple syrup is his new favourite combination. He can't remember the last time he ate so well.

“All right, you swam. Now, come here and get your food before I eat it all. And don't steal your brother’s.”

In a flurry of energy and movement, Cas finally seats the kids at the table with their food in front of them, cut up into bite-sized pieces, and snags his own plate. Instead of sitting down, he stands by the cooker, leaning his hip against it, and eats with his fingers. They all lapse into silence for a while, adults watching the kids as they swap bits of bacon and pancakes until they're happy with the contents of their plates. Dean notices how Billie gives Lexie more from his plate, and he's reminded of his own brother back home. He used to share his food with Sammy all the time when they were growing up. Sam, he reminds himself, not Sammy. He hasn't been Sammy for a long time now; he's Sam the Human Rights Lawyer, and Dean hasn't seen him in months. He swallows around a lump in his throat, and chugs most of his juice in one go. Cas is there refilling it before he even realises it's almost gone.

“How are you, Dean?” Cas sucks sticky maple syrup from his fingertips, simultaneously reaching over to wipe Billie’s hands with a damp cloth.

“Feel like I lost a round with a freight train.”

A cup of coffee materialises as well, and Dean thinks he could get used to this. He wraps his hands around it, soaking in the warmth and rich aroma, and feels his tense muscles relax just a fraction. There's something innately calming about Cas’ house, and Dean is soaking up that calm like a sponge. He hasn't felt anything close to peaceful in a long time.

“I can't say I'm surprised. You were really ill; I almost admitted defeat and took you to the hospital a couple of times. But the storm has been terrible, and I didn't want to risk the coast road, not with you in the state you were in, and these two wouldn't have been much use.” Cas gestures to his kids with the incline of one shoulder. “What were you doing wandering about in the middle of a storm, anyway?”

And there it is. Dean had hoped that more of the morning would go by before the questions started, but no such luck. He supposes he owes Cas an explanation since the man has basically been his full-time nurse over the last however many days. But when he opens his mouth to answer, the words stick in his throat and, to his horror, his eyes fill with tears. Cas studies him for just a second, then leans over and whips his plate away.

“I'll get you second helpings. You need to get your strength back up.”

It's such a deft change of subject that Dean should feel relieved. Cas isn't pushing him. And normally, he would be able to push away a wave of emotion and keep his usual cheerful mask fixed in place. But whether it's the remnants of his fever taking its toll, or it's something to do with Cas’ magnetic presence and the concerned blue of his eyes, but this time Dean can't stop the tears. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and ducks his head so hopefully nobody will see. He feels moisture track down his cheeks and inhaling becomes difficult through a blocked nose. The sound of a chair scraping back provides a welcome distraction, but he can't look up. He's riding an edge, seconds from losing it completely and descending into a full-blown hysterical crying fit, and that wouldn't make the best impression. He draws a shaky breath, but before he can let it out a tentative touch to his thigh makes his eyes snap open in shock. One of the twins, Lexie if Dean is correct in his assumption, is staring up at him with wide eyes, the same shade of blue as his father’s. Dean opens his mouth to say he-doesn't-know-what, then he notices the little boy’s outstretched arm. A beige stuffed rabbit is being held out to him, a rabbit with soft floppy ears and a pink nose. He takes it slowly, filled with a strange sense of wonder.

“Bunny doesn't like people feeling sad.” Lexie’s voice is softer than his brother’s. “He will look after you.”

It's such a simple gesture that it chokes Dean up and he can't reply. His other hand comes up to his mouth, to stop a sob escaping, and Lexie smiles shyly up at him, patting his leg in an attempt at comfort. Then the little boy turns and walks back to his chair, and Cas helps him back up into it with a strange, loaded smile at his lips. He looks emotional himself, and Dean can't look at him any more because he's barely holding it together himself and if Cas cries then he certainly will. He touches the bunny’s velvet-soft fur, flattened from years of hugs, and is unable to explain the slow retreat of his tears.

Dean eats the rest of his breakfast with a stuffed rabbit on his lap, while the children talk and laugh and Cas watches them all, always there with a smile or a fresh glass of juice, a damp cloth for sticky fingers and even a blanket when Dean starts to shiver. Whatever any of them need, Cas has it.

*

After breakfast, Dean goes back to bed again. His body needs more rest, and Cas actually has to help him down the hall since his legs have turned to Jell-O. He tries to give the bunny back to its rightful owner but Lexie won't take it; he shakes his head but doesn't say anything. It's Billie who pipes up.

“Lexie wants you to look after Bunny today. He will help you feel better.”

“Thank-thank you,” Dean stammers over his words, unsure what to say or do, but he's saved from elaborating further as the twins wander off outside onto the deck, hand-in-hand, and busy themselves with their toys.

“Come on.” Cas’ arm is warm and secure around his waist, and Dean falls onto him gratefully. His legs can't hold him up for much longer. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Cas flits around the bedroom making sure Dean is settled; he draws the blinds so it's dim but not dark, opens the window to let the fresh air in, and brings a cold, perspiring glass of water to the bedside, which Dean downs in one. It's replaced immediately.

“Are you all right?” Cas’ voice is sweet and low from the doorway, his hand on the doorknob, and Dean just nods. He's back in bed, blankets drawn up to his chest, and he's already feeling sleep tugging at him.

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. You have no idea… how much this means. You not kicking me out right away. You helping me at all. Thank you. So much.”

“Don't worry about it.”

There's something in Cas’ eyes that Dean wants to chase, but his own are slipping closed against his will. He thinks Cas says something else, but then he's tumbling into dreams accompanied by the sounds of the ocean and the feel of a soft stuffed rabbit clutched in his tired hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Later, much later, when the sun is hanging low in the sky and giving everything it touches a rich golden glow, Dean finds the energy to get up again. He wraps one of the heavy blankets around his shoulders, and wanders out into the living area to find Cas and the children. The house is still and quiet, and for a moment he panics that he's been left alone. But as he wanders further into the living room, he sees them out on the deck and his heart unclenches immediately. He's not alone. Cas is here. He's fine.

He slides the glass door open slowly and steps outside. The early evening is warm and balmy, and he inhales the scent of the ocean air deeply, feeling it fill his lungs; it’s cathartic and cleansing. Cas is sitting on a bean bag chair with his legs crossed and one of the twins - Lexie? - in his lap. A blanket is draped around his shoulders, and a book clasped in his hands. Billie is playing on the decking a short distance away, building a tower out of brightly coloured blocks, an expression of concentration on his small face, tongue peeking out just a little. Cas has looked up at the sound of the door, and is starting to get up - Dean waves at him not to.

“‘M fine, Cas. Just need to sit down. It's further from my room to here than I thought.” He belatedly realises he's said _my room_ not _the bedroom_ , but it's too late to retract it now. Maybe Cas hasn't noticed. He goes to sit down on a chair, but stops when Lexie shakes his head and points.

“ _That_ one is comfier.”

Cas laughs and ruffles his son’s hair. “He's right, you know. That one _is_ comfier.”

Dean smiles gratefully at the pair of them and sinks down into the bean bag chair that Lexie had gestured to, his aching body rejoicing at how soft it turns out to be. The little boy looks pleased with his choice, and goes back to reading his book. Settled, Dean turns his attention to the ocean. The sun is reflecting off the water, sending golden orange rays of light everywhere, and the gentle ebb and flow of the tide breaking on the sand is music to his ears. Dean can't ever imagine being anything but blissfully happy, living by the sea. The beach is deserted, apart from what looks like a campfire a long distance away, and as the sun dips lower in the sky Dean’s muscles start to unwind and he breathes deeper than he has in months. The sharp pain in his chest that he's grown accustomed to doesn't seem to hurt quite as much out here either. And he feels strangely content, sitting here in a stranger’s house, wrapped in an unfamiliar blanket, watching one of the most beautiful views in the world unfold in front of him. He's a sucker for a spectacular sunset.

“Are you feeling better?” Cas’ voice is quiet, and seems to blend seamlessly with the rushing of the waves.

“Much. I can't ever thank you enough for what you've done. You didn't have to help me, and you did. So… thanks. For not leaving me out there to die. Wherever ‘out there’ was.”

“You don't remember?”

“Not really.” Dean squirms, uncomfortable. He didn't mean to start a barrage of questions.

“I would never have left you. You were collapsed by the side of the road in the forest,” Cas gestures vaguely inland, somewhere behind them. “You'd have been run over or died of exposure. I barely saw you with the rain as bad as it was.”

“I guess it was my lucky day,” Dean says, to his hands. When he looks up, Cas is smiling warmly.

“I guess it was.”

“This is a gorgeous place to live,” Deflecting before things can get awkward, Dean turns back to the beach. It's almost sunset, and he feels strangely breathless with anticipation. Cas’ eyes seem to sparkle more than usual, and his smile almost rivals nature’s beauty.

“It really is. We’re very lucky, aren't we Lexie?” He brushes his son’s hair back, resting his chin on the little boy’s head and looking down to see what page he's on. Lexie nods, but doesn't answer.

“Have you been here for long?” Dean stretches out on his bean bag chair, pulling the blanket around him a little tighter. He can't deny that there's a chill in the air.

“Are you warm enough?” Cas reaches over to toss him another blanket. “We’ve been here almost three years. I love it here; I don't think I'll ever leave.”

“I can see why,” Dean muses. Then, a gentle attempt at probing, “Just you guys?”

“Yeah, just us.” Cas absently kisses the top of Lexie’s dark head. The boy leans back into his father, snuggling closer, and Dean’s heart aches as his eyes burn. The sight of them cuddling pulls at something deep inside him - he ends that train of thought immediately. He doesn't want to cry in front of Cas again. “The boys are starting school in the fall, just down the road in the town. They're happy here too, I think they'd miss the ocean if we ever moved away.”

“Yeah, definitely. I wish I'd grown up by the sea.” Dean’s voice is wistful as he stares out at the vast expanse of water stretching out towards the horizon. It makes him feel so small, sitting here on the deck talking to Cas. It's a humbling feeling.

“You didn't?”

“No. Lawrence, Kansas. Definitely no beaches around there.” Is it wise, telling a stranger personal details about himself? Dean figures Cas has already shared his home with him, so the least Dean can do is talk about himself a bit. “And I travelled around a lot growing up, but never really to the coast. Cities, mostly.” Fast-moving, easy to both get lost in and to lose yourself in. “So this is… yeah, this is pretty special.”

“I'm glad you like it, Dean.”

Lexie has abandoned his book in favour of cuddling back and dozing off in Cas’ arms. Billie is starting to slow as well, his enthusiasm for his toys waning; it hits Dean that he has no idea what time it is, or what time the kids will go to bed. Or, well, anything about kids at all. Cas doesn't seem too concerned about getting them inside, so Dean snuggles down a bit more, alternating between watching ocean and watching the family in front of him. He should feel like he's intruding, he's sure, but he hasn't felt this comfortable in a long time.

“What do you do for work?”

“Me? Oh, I'm a writer. Haven't had much time for it these last few months,” Cas nods to his kids. “But I was pretty successful with my first few books, so I can afford to take a step back for now. I don't want to spend more time working than with these two; they grow up so fast.” There's a sad note to Cas’ voice, and Dean wants to probe further but that wouldn't be polite. “What about you?”

“This and that. I don't really have much of a career. I've been a mechanic, a bartender, a cleaner, worked on a ranch, bussed tables… not much, really.”

“It sounds fascinating, Dean. Doing different things, meeting different people… I imagine you've seen all sorts throughout your life.”

 _You have no idea_.

“I guess. But moving around so much tends to lose its appeal after a while. I'd give anything for a place like this.”

He gestures to the ocean, to where the sun is finally sinking below the horizon and the sky is bursting with colour. For a moment, they both watch it in silence. Billie wanders over to his father and climbs up into his lap, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely. He settles down almost on top of his brother, curled together like kittens, and Dean swears he hears a contented sigh from Cas.

“You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Dean.”

Unsure if he heard that correctly, Dean turns to frown at Cas quizzically and is rendered silent by the way Cas is staring at him. His eyes are sparkling in the light from the sunset reflecting off the water, and his tanned skin holds an almost ethereal glow. _Fuck, he's so goddamn beautiful…_

“You… really?” Dean swallows, disarmed. He's sure Cas is only being polite, but something in the other man’s gaze speaks volumes. He means it.

“Absolutely. It's nice to have some company, and you should really rest up before you head on to wherever it is you're going.” Cas pauses, tilts his head thoughtfully, then asks, “Where is that, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I… don't really know. I don't have anywhere in mind.”

He expects Cas to frown, to be confused as to why he was wandering aimlessly with no destination in mind, but the other man smiles gently at him. He seems to know somehow that Dean very badly doesn’t want to talk about what drove him out into the forest alone in a storm, and silently he extends his thanks to Cas for being so discrete. He just isn’t ready to tell him, not now, maybe not ever. Maybe he will be out of Cas’ life and long on his way before he’s ever ready to talk about it. Or maybe, just maybe, he can stay a little. The twins are fast asleep now, and Cas drags a blanket on top of them to keep them cosy. When he speaks again, it's barely more than a whisper so he doesn't disturb his children.

“Well, then. What's that saying? Sometimes it's the journey, not the destination that counts. Something like that, anyway. If you don't have anywhere specific to be, Dean, then you're welcome here for as long as you want. Of course, if you want to leave as soon as you feel better I can drive you to the train station. Although I think it may be a little while yet before you’re fully on your feet. But…”

“But what?” Dean’s voice is a whisper, matching Cas’ rich, low tone.

“I really hope you'll stay. I'd like to get to know you a bit better.” It's a shy request, made with a sweet smile and Cas’ cheeks look pinker than they did a moment ago. Dean finds himself unable to answer, rendered mute by a lump in his throat. All he can do is smile back.

*

Dean gets up in the night to get a drink. On Cas’ encouragement, he's drinking plenty of water and he finds he's craving it more and more. Who would have thought it? Dean Winchester, craving _water_. It's normally beer, pie, and junk food that he's after; Cas and his apparently healthy, organic lifestyle (yeah, Dean’s seen the inside of his kitchen cupboards) must be having more impact on him than he realises. The brushed wood floor is cool and comforting under his bare feet, and the perspiring glass in his hands refreshing to his parched throat.

On his way back from the kitchen towards the bedroom he pauses, sure he's heard something. A low voice from the room he knows is Cas’, whispering something. Against his better judgement, he wanders slowly towards the cracked-open door and peers in. The room is dim and shadowy, lit up only by the moon and the stars outside, visible through cracks in the blind, and Dean has to squint until his eyes focus.

Cas is sitting up in bed shirtless, sheets pooling around his waist, cradling one of the twins to his chest and holding a hand to the back of the little boy’s head as he rocks him gently. He's murmuring quiet, soothing words but low sniffling and sobbing reaches Dean’s ears. Lexie, he’s sure it’s Lexie, is in blue pyjamas with bumblebees on them, and his little shoulders are shaking with forlorn cries.

“Shh, sweetheart. It was only a nightmare, I promise. I'm right here, Billie is right next door, nobody is leaving you on your own. Shh, it's all right. It's all right.” Cas kisses the boy’s head gently. “Oh, Lex, it’s OK. Come on now.”

Dean doesn’t have a chance to retreat: Cas glances up and their eyes lock in the darkness. A jolt of fear goes right through Dean; he’s sure Cas will be fuming that he’s spying on them. But Cas offers a gentle smile that seems to convey a hundred things at once: it questions if he’s all right, but at the same time it acknowledges that his boy is upset, and that he needs to stay with him. In response, Dean inclines his head towards Lexie and raises his eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Is he OK?’ Cas nods. ‘Nightmare.’ And Dean gets it. His sleep has been plagued by nightmares and night terrors for months - in fact, he’s surprised he hasn’t woken the whole house up with his screams over the last few days. It’s only now that it occurs to him that he hasn’t had a single nightmare since he first woke up in Cas’ spare room. He dismisses it, blames it on his fever sapping his energy, and watches Cas rock his child comfortingly for a moment before a thought occurs to him. He mouths to Cas that he will be right back, watches Cas’ head tilt in confusion, then he goes straight to his bedroom in search of something.

When he returns, stuffed bunny in hand, he has to go into Cas’ room to hand it over since the other man is now settled back against the headboard with the boy lying on his chest, crying quietly into his father’s neck. The way Cas’ eyes light up as he sees the rabbit brings a now-familiar wave of affection to Dean, and he swallows audibly. Wordlessly, he extends his arm and hands the bunny to Cas, who takes it with a grateful smile. He presses it against Lexie’s cheek in a pretend kiss, and the little boy turns and takes it in his arms, cuddling closer to his father in the process. Two sets of blue eyes look up at Dean, and he feels suddenly scrutinised and uncomfortable. But before he can retreat to go back to the spare bedroom, Lexie’s small voice cuts through the quiet, and Dean almost chokes at his words.

“Can Dean stay too, daddy?”

Cas’ eyes flick up to Dean, then back to his son. “I think Dean wants to sleep in his own bed, sweetheart. Aw hey, come on. Don't cry.” Cas pulls Lexie close again as the little boy starts to wail once more, and Dean can't help it. He goes with his instincts.

He perches on the edge of the bed, hyper-aware of how close to a shirtless Cas he is, and reaches out to stroke Lexie’s shaking shoulder.

“Hey, little man. I'm only going next door, OK? I'm not going away. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.” Dean says solemnly. The boy has turned his head against his father’s chest and is staring at him with wide, watery blue eyes. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is red; he looks like he's been crying for quite a while. “I promise.”

“Why can't you sleep here? This bed is comfy too.” Lexie wipes his eyes and stares innocently up at Dean.

“Because, um,” Dean fumbles, and, with a sigh, Cas takes control.

“Maybe Dean will stay here until you fall asleep. OK? Then when you wake up, you can go in and say hi. But he needs to rest, sweetheart, he's sick.” Lexie nods, rubbing his eyes and yawning hugely, settling back down against Cas’ tanned chest. “All right?”

“Stay, Dean.” The boy pats the bed, and Dean awkwardly shuffles on a little more. Cas moves up to make room for him, until Dean can swing his legs up and lean back against the headboard next to the other man, but on top of the sheets instead of under them. Lexie’s eyes are closed, and his breathing has evened out; Dean has to marvel at the child’s ability to drop off to sleep within seconds. He shifts awkwardly, aware of the stilted silence in the room. Cas definitely isn't asleep.

“Is this OK?” His own whisper is so quiet he barely hears it himself.

“Yes, it’s fine, Dean. Have you got enough room?”

“Yes.”

Neither of them mention the fact that Lexie is probably asleep already, so Dean should probably leave. They stare into the darkness together, both of them resolutely looking straight ahead, and Dean wonders for a minute if Cas is falling asleep too. There's no chance that he will - he's too close to Cas and stiff as a board, unable to relax a single muscle, wondering whether he should get up and leave or if it would disturb the sleeping boy.

“You know,” Cas breaks the silence with a strangely wistful tone to his husky voice. “I haven't shared a room with anyone but the boys for years. Let alone a bed. I'd forgotten how it feels.”

“How do you mean?” _Should I go?_ “How does it feel?”

“Don't know.” Cas shrugs as much as he can with a dead weight lying asleep on his chest, and turns to look at Dean. He can feel the other man’s eyes on the side of his face and swallows, but doesn't turn to meet his gaze. “Nice, I think. Not as lonely.”

The idea of Cas falling asleep feeling lonely opens up a rift in Dean’s chest. Nobody as kind and caring as Cas should ever have to feel lonely - although he can emphasise completely. The last few months of his life, he's felt more isolated and alone than he's ever been before, despite having his family and friends surrounding him. He wants to reach over and take the other man’s hand, but isn't sure how that would be received, and nothing he can think of to say seems suitable. They lapse back into silence, but it's less awkward this time. More comfortable and companionable. Dean thinks he will wait another minute or two before getting up and going back to his own room. If he just closes his eyes for a second…

He shifts, a while later, cracking open one eye and immediately closing it again as he's blinded by a ray of sunshine. _What the fuck?_ It was the middle of the night when he closed his eyes, and that only felt like five minutes ago. He pushes himself up onto an elbow and looks around with a swoop of realisation: he's still in Cas’ room. And, sure enough, lying next to him facing the window is Cas, messy-haired and deep in sleep, his arms curled protectively around Lexie who is crushed against his chest with a small smile playing at his lips. He and Cas have shifted closer to each other during the night; the other man’s skin smells like cinnamon and watermelon, and Dean can't help but take a deep inhale. A sound from the door draws his attention and he realises it isn't the morning sunlight streaming in that's woken him. Billie stands with a hand on the doorknob, looking rumpled and half-asleep, and he wanders towards the bed with a curious look at Dean. Apparently deciding that finding his father in bed with another man first thing in the morning is nothing out of the ordinary, Billie climbs up onto the bed and snuggles down behind his twin. Cas, still mostly asleep, reaches out to draw his other son in close, turns his head to cast a glance at Dean and sends him a sleepy smile.

“Mornin’, Dean.”

“…morning, Cas.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean does everything he can to help Cas out around the house over the next few days, but the older man is loathe to let him over-exert himself. Dean frequently pushes himself too hard and has to sit down, plagued by dizziness and aching limbs. He's never been this ill, so recovering from it is a real struggle, especially when he's less than familiar with taking it easy. He's taken to napping in the middle of the day, which makes him feel like a doddery old man, and he's just waking up from one of those naps when Cas sticks his head around the door.

"Hey. Sorry if I woke you. I washed the clothes you were wearing the other day when I found you, where shall I put them?"

He's holding a pile of clothing that Dean recognises as his own - he's been wearing soft sweaters and worn jeans belonging to Cas for the last however many days, and somehow managed to forget entirely that he has clothes of his own. Cas’ clothes are much more comfortable, and he eyes his own jeans with grumpy dislike. Cas doesn't wait for an answer, putting them down on the chair by the bed as Dean sits up and stretches with a yawn. He's sure Cas' eye rake over his shirtless chest for just a second before he turns to Dean's rucksack, shoved almost completely under a table, out of sight.

“I was going to wash some of your other stuff, but I didn't want to pry into your things. Do you have any more laundry? The kids are helping me do chores, so I might as well get as much done as possible."

"It's... all right. Thanks. I'll do it myself. Later." Dean hasn't looked in his rucksack once since arriving at Cas', and the idea of raking through all his old things fills him with dread. "Do you need a hand with anything?"

"Nope!" Cas smiles cheerfully. "We're fine. Finish your nap - dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, then the kids want to go down to the beach."

"That sounds good. I'll be up soon, thanks Cas."

When he's alone again, he sits and stares at the rucksack a few feet away. The only tie he has to his old life. He should open it, go through everything and work out some sort of a plan of action for the future. He can't stay here forever, no matter how simple and easy life with Cas and the children is. Cas will tire of him eventually, and he seems to polite to ask Dean to leave. He mustn't outstay his welcome, no matter how tempting it is to just bury himself in this beach house life and forget everything.

His rucksack taunts him and he sighs, swinging his legs out of bed and snagging it. No time like the present.

Piles of rolled up jeans and flannels, his old cell phone which probably doesn't work any more thanks to the rain, a couple of dog-eared books with family photos stuck into random pages for safekeeping, and the one thing that makes his breath catch in his throat: the keys to his car. A car which is now rotting at the bottom of a river, unless it's been dragged out and towed to a scrapheap. He shudders, unable to think of his prized possession in such a state. His fingers brush one more thing at the bottom of his rucksack and he pulls it out, remembering. It's an envelope, filled with hundred-dollar bills - all the money he has in the world. He had drawn it all out and closed the account a few weeks ago, and had spent very little of it since. It was supposed to be enough to get him on his feet in a new life - a new life he's struggling to picture beyond this beach house and Cas’ blue eyes.

He slowly packs everything away again, feeling more than a little morose at the fact that all he has of his past life is a handful of possessions and a crappy cell phone, but leaves the books out so he can take the photos out and look at them properly. Look at the faces of the people who now think he's gone, dead at the wheel of his beloved car, drowned at the bottom of the river or killed on impact. Sammy the Human Rights Lawyer with the oh-so-important career, his beloved brother who he spent most of his life raising, thanks to losing their mother so young and their father hitting the booze. Benny, his best friend in the whole world who owns Dean's favourite cafe and makes the best raspberry pie in existence. Bobby, his surrogate father figure, who took him and Sammy in when they were starving and alone, and who will be feeling the loss of Dean from his life more than anyone. Lisa and her son Ben, who he had been dating for a while and was considering moving in with when everything fell apart. His beloved Cassie, who flitted in and out of his life and always left him feeling bereft when she was gone. His father... Dean has no idea where he is now, or if he even knows what happened. John wasn't exactly present in his life, hadn't been for years. So many people, people he had loved, people who he could never see again. He misses Benny and Bobby the most. They were the only ones who hadn't looked at him and seen a different man after... everything. Everybody else... their love for him had changed. Not necessarily waned, but definitely hadn't been as fierce as before.

He lies down on the bed, clutching the photos to his chest, and tries to calm his breathing. He can't think too much on what happened, on why he had left, or it will consume him and send him spiralling, as it always does. He knows it hadn't been his fault, on some level. But that doesn't stop him blaming himself for it all, and for the lives he's wrecked. Unwanted tears spill down his cheeks and he turns on his side, curling up into a ball and trying to hug himself to stop his soul from breaking apart. He shudders as quiet sobs wrack his body, and gives in to his grief, crying and crying until exhaustion finally claims him and he falls into a restless sleep.

Cas comes to him hours later, wakes him with a gentle shake and doesn't comment on his puffy eyes and red nose. He just squeezes Dean's shoulder, tells him dinner is ready if he's hungry, and invites him to the beach. He glances at the photos as Dean hides them under his book, but doesn't say anything. He just smiles his beautiful, kind smile and leaves Dean to dress. Cas really couldn't be more perfect if he tried.

*

“Well, would your daddy let you have one?”

Dean is in the kitchen the following day, holding a chocolate bar, and gazing critically down at Billie, who has his hands clasped behind his back and is smiling a giant, Cheshire-cat smile up at Dean. If the boy had a thought bubble above his head, it would say, ‘Pleeeeease’ in giant, swirly letters. It's taking Dean longer to recover from his illness than he thought, and Cas has been nothing but helpful and reassuring, making him feel welcome in his home and reiterating that he can stay as long as he likes. Dean is increasingly drawn to Cas’ warm, kind spirit and the children are a dream to be around.

“Daddy would say yes.” The response is immediate, but Dean isn't sure he believes him. “One for Lexie, too.”

“Well, I only have one.” Dean lies, crossing his fingers behind his back. “You'd have to share.” Does he give in to this adorable kid with his bright eyes and wheedling smile? Will that get him into trouble with Cas? Are the twins allowed sweets? Why can't he remember if he's ever seen them eating chocolate before? He's about to hand the chocolate bar over to Billie, prepared to take whatever consequences come with it because the kid is too damn cute to say no to, when a sound from the hallway reaches his ears.

“Cas? You there?” A voice, unfamiliar but eerily similar to Cas’, floats into the living room, and for a moment Dean is pinned in place. Cas is outside on the beach with Lexie, building a sandcastle or something. Dean had only come in to refill their water bottles, Billie at his heels, and now he's regretting his choice. He's about to come face-to-face with someone from Cas’ life, and how the hell is he meant to explain who he is? Dammit, where's Cas when he needs him?

His anxiety doubles when the stranger walks in, and he does a double-take, blinking hard to make sure he isn't hallucinating. The guy is tall, with messy dark hair and the same jawline, cheekbones, build, and full lips as Cas. In fact, if Dean squints, he can just about imagine it is Cas standing before him. He's in well-fitting dark jeans and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and is a lot more put-together than the Cas Dean has grown to know and like. The guy isn't looking at him; he's rummaging in one of the paper bags in his arms, looking for something. This must be… this has to be Cas’ brother, and they're so freakishly alike that they _must_ be twins. Dean swallows. Holy shit, this guy is almost as dreamy as Cas.

Unfortunately, that opinion doesn't last very long.

“I got everything on your list, they didn't have tomatoes at the farmers market though, so I went to that place across the street. And that elderflower cordial was on offer, so I got a couple of bottles. I brought some wine too, and - hey! Who the hell are you?”

The man’s gaze has snapped up, and he's regarding Dean with what can only be interpreted as cold fury. Icy blue eyes rake over him to land on the child with the outstretched hand right in front of Dean, and the man balks in shock.

“Billie! Come away from him, come here.”

“Uncle Jimmy!” Billie squeals in delight and abandons Dean completely, rushing across the room and wrapping himself around the legs of the newcomer, limbs akimbo and eyes sparkling with happiness. Dean feels a bizarre pang in his chest and only belatedly realises what it is - jealousy - when the man speaks again.

“Where's Cas? Who are you? What the fuck are you doing in this house?” The questions are ground out so quickly that Dean cannot formulate answers fast enough.

“Uncle Jimmy!” Billie claps his hands over his mouth upon hearing the spat-out swear word, looking scandalised. “Naughty!”

“Sorry, kiddo. Cover your ears.” The bags are deposited on the kitchen counter, and the guy - Jimmy, apparently - hoists Billie effortlessly up onto his hip. “Where's your daddy?”

“Outside. Lexie built a castle, and _I_ went swimming. Dean helped me.” Billie points excitedly in Dean’s direction with a huge grin. “He's sleeping with daddy.”

Dean jolts in shock and a thunderous expression comes over Jimmy’s face. If looks could kill, Dean would be stone cold dead on the floor right now, and he scrambles to correct the little boy who is innocently playing with his uncle’s hair and running playful fingers over his face. He might be Cas’ double, and on the surface equally as hot, but the guy is practically sparking with dislike, and he doesn't hold the same serene energy that Cas does. Dean doesn't think he likes him. And _shit_ , he should have known that morning when Billie found him in bed with Cas would come back to bite him on the ass. _Why_ did the kid have to say that?

“He means - I'm not - Cas and I…” Deep breath, Dean. Start at the top. “Cas rescued me. I was sick, and he took care of me. I slept in the spare room. I _sleep_ in the spare room. I'm not… I… it was only once, and we didn't _do_ anything…”

“Save it. Where's Castiel?”

 _Castiel_. So that's what Cas is short for. Intriguing name..

Jimmy advances into the living room, looking every bit like he could quite cheerfully strangle Dean, and upon seeing Cas playing with Lexie out on the beach he opens the sliding door, sets Billie down, and follows him outside - pointedly pulling the door closed behind him. A great big ‘don't follow us’ message to Dean. And, well, that's like a red flag to a bull.

"Twins everywhere," Dean mutters to himself, yanking the door open again and strutting after Jimmy, who turns to throw him an infuriated glare over his shoulder. Cas has looked up at the sound of the glass door, and his face breaks into a smile as he sees his brother - only to freeze then fall as he no doubt clocks the expressions on their faces as they stride towards him. Lexie, unaware of the tension, jumps up to hug his uncle then grabs Dean's hand, trying to pull him towards the sandcastle he's building - which is fairly impressive for a four-year-old, if Dean’s honest. He suspects Cas helped more than a little.

“Cas? Care to explain what the hell is going on?” Jimmy’s voice shimmers with barely-restrained irritation, sounding a few degrees less cold than when he spoke to Dean. He shifts Billie on hip, places the other hand on his waist, and quirks an expectant eyebrow; Dean has to crush down an inappropriate desire to laugh. “You didn't tell me you have _a guest_?”

“I didn't know you were coming! Or… oh, I did, but I forgot. Sorry. This is Dean, and Dean this is my brother, Jimmy,” Cas valiantly attempts to introduce the pair of them, but Jimmy is having none of it. He fixes Dean with a pointed glare, one which explicitly asks ‘why did you follow us out here?’ and Cas twists his hands together awkwardly. “Jimmy is my twin…”

“I can see that.” Dean tries to reassure Cas with a warm smile. “Must run in the family, huh?”

“Well,” Cas frowns, tilts his head and is about to say something when Jimmy cuts him off smoothly, sliding the little boy in his arms to the ground and nudging him towards the sand castle.

“Cas? A word? In _private_?”

*

Dean digs into the ground with the kids’ spade in frustration. A frustration that quickly melts into curiosity when he hears a door slam inside, and Cas and Jimmy’s voices coming from somewhere nearby. They must be in one of the bedrooms; a quick glance up reveals that the window is wide open, and if Dean inches just a little closer he will be able to hear them. He shouldn't. He should stay put and give the brothers some privacy. Give Jimmy some privacy to chew Cas out over having a total stranger in his home, _apparently_.

So, of course, he shuffles closer to the open window, not to _listen_ obviously. Just to, you know, get more comfortable.

“… _earth_ you're thinking, Castiel. He could be anyone! You just let him stay here? Around the _kids_?”

“Don't, Jimmy. I don't need a lecture. I know Dean. He's a good person, and yeah, he needed help. I found him half-dead out on the road in the forest in the middle of the worst storm we’ve had all year. What was I meant to do, drive off? He was sick, really sick, and I let him stay while he recovered.”

“Well, he looks recovered. Send him on his way.”

“No, Jimmy, don't be like this. I'm enjoying having him here, he's great with the boys, and…”

“Is he using you, Cas? Have you given him any money?”

“ _What_? Of course not! What kind of idiot do you think I am? And no, he isn't using me. He can leave whenever he wants, and I can ask him to leave whenever I want. It goes both ways.”

“So? Ask him to leave?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I'm enjoying the company?”

A long silence, in which Dean can imagine Cas’ cool glare and Jimmy’s glower. He hears a sigh, which could be from either one of the twins.

“How long have you been telling me to make some friends? Months? Longer? Dean is nice, Jimmy, just give him a chance.”

“How much do you know about him?”

“Well, bits and pieces… we’re getting to know each other…”

“I've heard. Why did Billie, your _four_ - _year_ - _old_ , tell me that Dean is _sleeping_ with you?”

“He - _what_? Oh my god,” Cas dissolves into giggles, and the sweet glittery tone of his laugh makes Dean smile in turn. “It's a long story, but Lexie had a nightmare and slept in my bed with me. And Dean came to check on us, and we kind of fell asleep together… don't _look_ at me like that, Jimmy, nothing _happened_ …”

“For god’s sake, Cas.”

“Stop treating me like a child.” All the humour has gone out of the other man’s voice now, and Dean actually feels chilled at the thought of the expression on his face. A few feet away, the twins are laughing at something in the sand and passing a plastic bucket back and forth between them, blissfully unaware of what's happening. “I know what's best for me and my kids. I appreciate your concern, but you need to let this go. I like Dean, I trust him, that should be enough for you.”

There's a silence, a grunt, a sigh, and the rustling of something Dean can't identify. Then Jimmy’s voice comes again, muffled against something. His brother’s shoulder, perhaps. Dean can picture them hugging.

“OK, Cas. If you say so, then I'll reserve judgment for now. I just hope he's as good as you say he is. I couldn't bear to see you get hurt. Not after everything…”

“I know, Jimmy.” A snuffle, maybe from Cas? Is he crying?Dean can't bear to think of him upset over anything. “Let’s go and see the kids. You know how they adore you.”

Dean scoots quickly away from the window, suddenly very aware of what being caught could mean, and turns his attention back to the twins playing in the sand. His cheeks are burning at the way Cas defended him, the way he had said he trusts him. At being called ‘good’. He isn't a good person, he knows it for sure. He just hopes Cas doesn't have to find that out, now or ever. Logically he knows he can't keep his past a secret forever, but he's enjoying his time with this beautiful family so much that he can't bear the thought of it ending.

“Dean?” Cas lightly touches his shoulder, jolting Dean from his thoughts. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” He stands, watching Jimmy appraise him with a cool, calculating expression, then smiles warmly at Cas. “I'm fine. The kids are very talented with a bucket and spade.”

Cas laughs, sends Jimmy inside to fetch them all drinks, and they spend a pleasant few hours on the beach as the children play and the tide draws in slowly. Things between Dean and Jimmy are strained, but they get by with polite words and frosty smile. They all only get up to retire inside when the sun starts to sink low, and Cas’ stomach growls for attention.

"Is Uncle Jimmy staying for dinner?" Lexie, who is winding himself around Dean's legs, stares up at his father with an innocent smile; Billie echoes his brother and Jimmy grins. Cas' own smile is slightly strained in response.

"No, sweetheart, he has to head home now." Cas turns his smile on his brother, and Jimmy glares, folding his arms across his chest. Dean doesn't miss the way his forearms flex as he does so. If Dean squints, he can almost imagine Jimmy as a territorial canine, hackles raised, ready to pee on the furniture to mark what's his. It's an amusing image.

"I don't have to go just yet, Castiel. I can stay..."

There's a pregnant pause, where Cas obviously wants to tell his twin to leave but either can't find the heart or can't find the words. Dean shouldn't intervene, he shouldn't. This is Cas' battle to fight, but watching the other man look at the ground and twist his fingers together is excruciating. Oh, fuck it.

"Oh no, I'm sorry Jimmy, there isn't enough food." Dean hopes his voice is a smooth and apologetic as it sounds in his head. Jimmy visibly recoils, a frown darkening his handsome face as he turns to Dean. “Cas would love you to stay, but we weren't prepared for a guest. Another time, certainly. It would be great to get to know each other better, wouldn't it?"

He leaves it at that on purpose. Jimmy can't respond in the negative without making himself look bad in front of Cas and the boys, and by the red flush on his cheeks he's more than aware of that fact. He glowers at Dean, but seems to know he's beaten.

"Fine. Cas, I'll call you in the morning. Have a good evening."

He kisses the twins goodbye and makes a short, sharp exit - Dean lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding as the door slams shut behind Jimmy's retreating back. Suddenly, he's conscious that what he did was not only rude, it was disrespectful and in no way grateful to Cas for his hospitality. _Shit_ , Cas must be _livid_ with him. He turns, apologies ready at his lips, to see Cas covering his mouth with his hand and barely controlling his laughter.

“I can't believe you did that.”

“Cas, I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't think…”

“Dean. It was hilarious. Jimmy hates being told off by _anyone_ , even me. I can't believe he actually _went_. Maybe he respects you more than he's letting on.”

“Maybe he does…”

Lexie is pulling at Dean’s leg and staring up at him with his big blue eyes. “What do you need, little man?” The boy reaches up with both hands, fingers still sandy from the beach, and smiles a huge, innocent smile that lights up his entire face. Dean glances over at Cas, who is smiling softly.

“He wants a hug, Dean. He wants you to pick him up.”

“Oh. Right.”

This is new, uncharted territory. So far he's only patted the kid on the head or the arm; they haven't ventured as far as hugs, but Dean goes with it. He reaches down and lifts Lexie under his arms, and the boy’s legs come automatically around his waist. He's like a baby koala, all warm and cuddly and clinging to Dean, and he holds him close with one hand under his bottom as he's seen Cas do, the other resting gently on his back. He smells like sea water. Lexie sticks his thumb contentedly in his mouth, rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, and they both watch as Cas rustles about in the kitchen to prepare some dinner. Billie is rummaging in his toy box, getting sand everywhere, and it's all so domestic that it brings a pleasant ache to Dean’s heart.

“Jimmy will come around, Dean. You'll see.”

Cas is making some sort of pasta, and it already smells delicious. There's sand in Cas’ hair, and in a dried smear down the back of his arm. Taking a chance, Dean reaches over and brushes it off, drawing a pleased smile to Cas’ lips. Their eyes meet, and they both stare for just a second too long before moving away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags, folks.

Later that evening, after they’ve all eaten their fill and the twins are settled in their beds, Cas and Dean sit out on the decking sharing the rest of the wine from dinner. Cas has his bare feet tucked under him and a blanket round his shoulders, and keeps leaning over to throw more wood into the little circular fire pit, keeping up a constant glowing warmth. Dean is next to him on the bench, trying to work out how to set up his new cell phone and failing miserably. In the end he gives up, tossing it back into the box and shoving it to one side. Cas sends him an amused smile, and passes him the wine to refill his glass. The quiet evening is bliss on Dean’s raw nerves; normally he would crash out on the sofa in front of some mindless chat show on TV and drink himself into oblivion, so doing something entirely different to that is refreshing to his soul. In fact, he doesn't even think Cas _has_ a TV; he definitely hasn't seen one in the living area, and he's pretty sure Cas’ bedroom is free of such technological atrocities such as television. He doesn't even keep his cell phone on him most of the time - Dean frequently finds it abandoned in the strangest of places. Cas and his boys seem more in tune with books, drawing and colouring, and being outside than with phones, video games and movies. Dean adds that the the growing list of things he loves that about them.

“So. Your brother seems nice.” Dean can't keep the sarcasm from his voice, and Cas snuffles out a laugh from behind his glass.

“Jimmy is great, really. He's just overprotective, and he doesn't trust strangers around me or the kids. He's always been a bit funny that way, but more so laterally. He'll come around.”

“I hope so.” Dean passes the bottle back to Cas and takes a deep slug of wine. He's normally a beer-drinker, but this stuff Cas has procured is actually pretty nice, and he's feeling pleasantly buzzed already. Cas has warned him to take it easy, that the alcohol will affect him more quickly since he's been so ill and is probably still clinging onto the remnants of it. Dean is trying to heed his warning, but the wine is going down far too well. “I don't really want him hating me. Maybe we just need to spend some more time together, let him get used to my wit and charm.”

Cas smiles at him for a moment, before saying quietly, “That sounds like you're planning on sticking around, Dean.”

“I guess… I hadn't really thought too much about it, but…” He can feel himself blushing a deep crimson, and hopes it isn't noticeable in the shadows. “I’d like to. At least for a while. If you'll have me. I can pay you rent, I'll clean and cook and buy food for us all...”

“I would really like you to stay, Dean.” Cas reaches across and squeezes his hand, and electricity ignites beneath Dean’s skin at his touch. "And there's no need to worry about any of that, honestly. Your company is more than enough. It's nice having someone else around. The kids are… I adore them. They're my life. But sometimes I miss the company of another adult. Someone I get along with. Someone I can talk about grown-up stuff with.” They share a loaded smile, before Dean breaks their gaze and takes a breath to ask a question that has been on his mind since overhearing Jimmy’s fierce words.

“Cas? Why did your brother... seem to dislike me so much?" Shit, he nearly mentioned Jimmy's comment about Dean using Cas and asking him for money. That would be been an epic blunder, revealing that he essentially eavesdropped on a private conversation between the twins. Good save, Dean. "I mean, I get why he would be a bit freaked out, finding a stranger in your house. But did he maybe... overreact? A bit?”

“Oh.” Cas withdraws his hand and pulls his blanket a bit tighter around himself. His body language closes up, and Dean instantly regrets asking. Nothing is said between them for almost a minute, and just when the silence becomes too unbearable and Dean is about to scramble to apologise, Cas sighs heavily. “Jimmy worries about me. Too much, in my opinion, but I suppose he has reason to. It's been a... tough few years, but things are better now, I'm doing fine. He just frets.”

"Oh. Well, I guess I can understand that."

"Do you have any siblings, Dean?"

 _Sammy the Human Rights Lawyer, who thinks he's Superman in a suit and has no time for his fuckup of a brother._ "I have a brother."

"Are you close?"

 _No_. "We were when we were kids."

"Not any more?"

"Not really. Stuff... stuff happened and, I dunno, we just don't talk any more." _That could be because he thinks you're dead, Dean_. "We haven't for a while, really. Months, maybe even longer."

"I'm sorry. It must be hard, being estranged from a sibling like that. I have the opposite problem, I guess - I can't get rid of Jimmy most of the time. Although I suppose it's a blessing."

"Bet it feels like a curse sometimes."

Dean winks at Cas, who smiles in reply. They sit quietly for a while, and Cas sighs heavily once or twice, alternating between staring at his feet and looking down into his wine glass as though it holds the key to the meaning of life. Soon, his gaze transfers off towards the ocean for a while, clearly considering something, then seems to come to a conclusion. He digs in the pocket of his ratty old jeans for his phone, appearing a little surprised when he actually finds it, and taps at the screen, then spends a minute or two just staring at it.

“Have you ever lost anyone, Dean?”

The question catches him off guard. His initial instinct is to lie, but lying to Cas feels like kicking a devoted puppy. He nods slowly, unable to verbalise in case it all just comes spilling out between them. It's only half true - the loss wasn't truly his, but he felt it to his core, and it's stayed with him ever since. He isn't ready to talk about it, and prays that Cas doesn't push him.

Cas studies him for a moment, turning the phone over and over in his hands, until he reaches a decision. Wordlessly, he hands it over and Dean finds himself staring at a picture on the screen. It's a photo of Cas, smiling at the camera with the backdrop of mountains behind him. The twins are young, no more than a year old, and both of them are bundled in Cas’ arms, distracted by each other and not looking towards the camera. Standing at Cas’ side, with his arm wrapped affectionately around his shoulders, is a dark-haired man with a military-style haircut and a mischievous smile. They look like a family, whole, happy, and content with each other; Cas is different, younger definitely, but less serious-looking. More carefree. Dean doesn't realise he's reaching out to touch the other man’s face on the screen until his finger makes contact and he jolts back in surprise.

“His name was Cole,” Cas speaks in barely more than a whisper, and Dean has to strain to hear him. “He was my husband. And he… he died a week after that photo was taken.”

“Oh, Cas.” Dean has to swallow a wave of anguish for the other man. Cas sounds so incredibly sad that he wants to reach over and hold him. The photo seems to take on a new aura, now that he knows Cole has passed away. While Cas and the boys still look to be full of life, captured at a single moment, Cole looks frozen in time, one-dimensional, and his gaze now seems fixed and blank. It's an illusion, but it makes Dean shiver. “I'm so sorry. How old were the boys?”

“They'd just turned one,” Cas’ voice breaks and he takes a few deep breaths to collect himself. “A couple of days before. We had gone away for the weekend, to this beautiful cabin in the mountains. It was perfect, the boys had a wonderful time, and Cole… well, I thought he did too.” Cas takes the proffered phone from Dean, gazing sadly down at the picture before locking the screen and tossing it onto the chair next to him. “I… I found him dead six days after we got home.”

“Oh Jesus, Cas. I'm so sorry.” A chill sweeps through Dean at the idea of finding your partner in such a way… Tears prick at his eyes and he scrubs them away irritably. This isn't about _him_ , it's about Cas and his pain. He has no right to be feeling any kind of grief beyond solidarity. “What… what happened?”

In the darkness, Cas’ blue eyes seem to glow in the light from the fire. The flames have dulled down now to gentle embers, but he warmth it gives off should more than enough. The crashing of the waves nearby give lend an eerie tone to their conversation, and Dean feels chilled to the bone. Cas stares for a long while, seeming to look past Dean's face and into the core of his being, before looking down at his hands and answering. In hindsight, nothing could have prepared Dean for his words.

“He killed himself. I came home from picking the twins up and… I found him.” Cas looks up, big blue eyes filled with tears and a haunted look in them. Dean doesn't know how to respond; he’s frozen, white-knuckling the arm of the chair in utter shock. Whatever he’d been expecting out of Castiel’s mouth, it wasn't this. “I don't remember much after that,” Cas looks down at his hands, at the wine glass in his shaky hands. “There’s a big gap between finding him and being at the hospital a couple of hours later. Jimmy has told me bits and pieces. He said I called 911, kept the kids away… apparently I was really calm throughout the whole thing… but I just don't remember. Shock, I suppose. But I had…”

Cas’ stops, his breath catching on a sob; Dean does reach over this time, puts a tentative hand on his shoulder and when it isn't pushed away, he scoots closer and wraps an arm around Cas’ shoulders. Seeing the normally calm man in such distress is heartbreaking, and he has no clue what to do to make it better. How can _anything_ make it better?

“I had Lexie in my arms when I went into our room, and Cole was just _lying_ there on the bed, blood everywhere… it _haunts_ me, Dean, knowing he saw... and I know he won't remember any of it, but I go over it in my head all the time, thinking I should have put him down first, that I should have _known_ something was wrong…”

He breaks off again, overwhelmed, and Dean hugs him a little tighter.

“Every therapist I've seen says he won't remember it. But when he has these nightmares… I have no idea what he's seeing, and I worry every time that it's Cole’s body. His _father’s_ body. And I just… I don't _know_ why he did it. I've spent years trying to work it all out. How could he leave me and the kids that way? But I know that's _selfish_ and I shouldn't think like that, he was obviously in pain, but… why didn't he tell me? Why didn't I know? Oh God.” Cas wipes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I'm so sorry, Dean, Jesus, why am I telling you this? You don't need me bringing you down.”

Cas buries his head in his hands and takes long, deep breaths to try and right himself. Dean doesn't know what to do beyond holding him, so he just tightens his grip a little and hopes it's enough. He knows nothing will ever be enough to take away that kind of pain, can't even imagine was Cas must have gone through, but he hopes even the minuscule amount of comfort he can provide will do.

“I just... thought he was happy.” The words are muffled, spoken into shaking hands. “I thought _we_ were happy. I had no idea… I should have known somehow, if only I'd known…”

“Shh, Cas, hey. You couldn't have known, no way. You did all you could, I'm sure of it.” Dean is out of his depth. He has no idea what to do, what's correct to say and what isn't, and panic flares in his chest at the thought of unwittingly upsetting Cas further. He settles a bit more next to the shaking man, and nudges Cas until he leans against him, wrapping both arms securely around him and holding him as he tries to regain control. “It's all right. It'll be all right.”

“I know,” Cas chokes, leaning into Dean and curling up a little tighter. Dean wraps his arm around Cas' shoulders a little tighter; Cas' hand comes up to grasp his. “I know, and normally I have a handle on it all. I guess, well, I haven't talked about it to anyone in a long time. Jimmy doesn't bring it up, and I don't really have many friends so nobody knows around here. The kids don't...” His voice breaks again and he snuffles out a sob. "The boys don't even remember him. I show them photos, but... they were too young."

He wipes his eyes then tilts his head to look up at Dean, and their close proximity registers with both of them. Their faces are inches apart and Cas blinks up at him, blue eyes shining in the firelight.

“That's why Jimmy worries, you know? Because I don't let people get close. I don't make friends, I don't date… after Cole died… I moved away and came here. This place is the polar opposite of where we lived before; it's quiet, remote, nobody about apart from people in the town, and that's a good ten mile drive. A fresh start I suppose, that's what I wanted, but it was harder than I thought. I don't have friends here; the only people I see other than my kids are the folks in town when we go shopping, or when the boys have play dates. I don't dare let anyone in.” Cas is studying him, a look of curiosity and intrigue on his handsome face.

“So… why have you let me in?” Dean can't help but ask. Of all the things he could - and _should_ \- have said, that probably isn't correct, but something in Cas’ eyes is drawing him in.

A strange feeling has settled between the two of them, one of intense intimacy, and the feeling of Cas in his arms is one he never wants to forget. Especially when Cas reaches up with a tentative hand and touches his cheek - his skin tingles beneath the other man’s fingertips.

“I honestly don't know, Dean. I just… I'm drawn to you, and I can't explain it. You're the first person in a long time I've felt any connection with. You're the first person aside from the boys and Jimmy who has been in my house for more than five minutes.” Cas is tracing his jawline now, his finger coming so close to Dean’s lips. “There's something special about you. Something different.” As Dean’s throat works to swallow around a swell of emotion, Cas’ face takes on an expression of consternation. “I hope I haven't spoken out of turn by telling you about… him. I didn't mean to put all this on you.”

“You can tell me anything, Cas.” They're so close now that it would take barely any movement for Dean to lean down and press their mouths together. The air between them is thick and charged. “I hope you know that.”

“I do, Dean.” Cas’ gaze keeps flicking down, moving between Dean’s eyes and his lips, and his head inclines just a little more. “You're like nobody I've ever met. I feel so fortunate to have you here, in my life. I don't ever want you to leave…”

And Dean leans down, watching Cas’ eyes fall closed in anticipation. But before their lips can touch, a low cry sounds from inside the house and they're both jolted uncomfortably from the spell that has settled over them. Cas sighs, keeps his eyes closed for just a second longer, then opens them to look up at Dean and regret is written all over his face.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I have to…”

And Dean just nods in silent understanding, allowing Cas to disentangle himself and pad barefoot into the house in the direction of the twins’ bedroom, leaving Dean alone to wonder what the hell just happened between them, and to let Cas’ story sink in.

*

"Cas?"

Dean nudges the door open, certain of what he heard. It's the middle of the night and the whole house is dark and quiet - quiet apart from the low sound of someone crying. Cas is curled up in the middle of his bed, alone, and from the tremors of his shoulders in the moonlight it's obvious he's trying to hold back sobs.

"Cas, hey." Perhaps it's his half-asleep brain not working properly, but Dean thinks nothing of crossing the room, padding quietly in bare feet, and climbing onto the bed on his knees, touching the other man lightly on the shoulder, leaning over him. "You OK?"

It's a stupid question, really. Cas is quite clearly not OK at all. He scrubs at his eyes and turns to look at Dean - the movement knocks Dean's balance and he almost falls on top of him, only just managing to brace himself with a forearm against the bed, on the opposite side of Cas. They're only inches apart now, Dean hovering over him - Cas smells of watermelon and cinnamon, and he's looking up at Dean with an unfamiliar rawness, as though seeing him for the first time.

"I'm... I'll be all right. Nightmare." Cas' hand seems to come up from nowhere to touch Dean's cheek, fingers running lightly down to his jaw. His other hand is on Dean’s chest, not pushing him away - in fact, he seems to be somehow drawing him closer with just the touch of his palm. “Why aren't you asleep? Did I wake you?”

"Got up to get a drink. Heard you. Thought I'd come check to see if you were all right." Dean’s whisper is barely audible; he's studying every inch of Cas’ face as though trying to commit it to memory. They're closer now, sharing a breath, and Dean is mesmerised by what he sees. The fine lines at his eyes, the swell of his lower lip, the light dusting of stubble…

Cas leans up and presses his mouth to Dean’s, so gently, and pulls away before he has a chance to respond, but those few seconds register in his brain as the best first kiss he’s ever had and he chases it, leaning down to touch his lips to Cas’, so, so gentle, before pulling back to look at him. The blue eyes below him are now dark with worry, brows knitting together, and it was such a shy, chaste kiss that Dean’s heart aches. Does Cas think he doesn't want him? Is that it? Is that why he looks so goddamn terrified right now?

“Dean…” Cas is studying his face, eyes taking all over him, and it makes Dean’s skin shiver deliciously. He wants Cas to look at more than just his face, wants his eyes to roam all over his naked body and to want to do more than just look. Cas is tracing his lips with a finger, looking adorable, confused and curious, then leans up and kisses him again. It's a beautiful moment, one that goes down in Dean’s memory forever: lying on top of Cas, braced on his forearms, kissing him slowly and sweetly as though they have all the time in the world. Which, Dean realises, they do. He flicks his tongue out to stroke Cas’ bottom lip in a request, asking permission to deepen the kiss, and that's when Cas pulls away. The look in his eyes is regretful, but he shakes his head just a little.

“Dean… I can't… I'm not ready…”

“It's OK, Cas.” Taking a chance, he kisses him again, closed-mouthed and quick, enjoying the sweet taste of cinnamon and watermelon on the other man’s lips. “You don't have to. _We_ don't have to.”

His hand goes of its own accord to stroke through Cas’ hair, messing it up even more, and the sweet smile he gets in return makes his heart sing. He's _never_ felt like this about anyone before, not even close. He feels like he could watch Cas smile until the world ends, and he would die a happy man. They share another kiss, then Dean shifts to lie down at Cas’ side and they end up a tangle of beautifully entwined limbs. He can’t stop touching Cas, stroking his face, lacing his fingers through his hair, wrapping an arm around him, and Cas responds in kind, constantly initiating more delicious, shy kisses. Dean can't remember the last time he experienced anything like this with another person: slow, affectionate making out - if it can even be classed as that - with no intent for it to go any further. Even if Cas did want to, the mood doesn't feel right. It's too intimate, and heat would just break that intimacy and Dean couldn't bear that. He wants more. Wants to spend the whole night like this with Cas, in his arms and being held while wrapping the other man in his embrace.

“Cas… the kids, should I…?”

“Please stay, Dean. If… if you want to. I’d really like it if you did.” Cas’ eyes are dark under his lashes, and Dean just smiles and kisses him again, sliding an arm under his shoulders to pull him against his chest. Cas sighs happily, snuggling down and starting to trace patterns onto Dean’s t-shirt.

“Billie won't tell on us, will he?” Dean smirks into the darkness. “I don't know if I can handle another lecture from Jimmy.”

“You let me worry about him.” Cas laughs quietly. “If Jimmy focused on his own relationships half as much as mine, he wouldn't be constantly grumbling about being single. Advice I may have to offer him if the moment arises.”

They lie together curled under Cas’ pure white sheets, watching the moon dance across the sky among the stars. Neither of them fall asleep; they don't want to miss a single second of each other's embrace. When dawn breaks, Cas pushes himself up onto an elbow and kisses Dean again, and they lose themselves in each other’s mouths. Tongues this time, but it's languid and lazy, a shared affection with no burning need to push forward. Eventually, with an hour or two to go until the twins wake up, they fall into a light sleep together, curled around each other with Cas on Dean’s chest. When the boys wander in later and Cas welcomes them with open arms, it's almost like Dean is a part of the family. Like he's been here forever, and like he's _meant_ to be here forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to write, for some personal reasons. I hope it came out OK. I couldn't end it without our boys enjoying a fluffy, happy moment together :)
> 
> I'm expecting this to be 20+ chapters, so settle in for the long haul (if you're enjoying it!)


	6. Chapter 6

“Dean? The boys and I are going into the town to go shopping, do you want to come?”

His instant reaction is: _People? No thanks_. But he knows he can't stay cooped up in Cas’ beach house forever, no matter how zen the whole place is and how perfect the last few days have been, so he nods slowly. Cas smiles at him, and he suddenly feels less apprehensive. He’ll be with Cas. He’ll be _fine_.

“Great. We’re just going to the grocery store, but it can take an age with those two finding everything so fascinating. And you haven't seen anywhere beyond this house yet, have you? I thought you might enjoy it. There isn't much in the town, but it's nice enough.”

“Yeah… all right, Cas. Sure. That would be nice.”

“Great!” Cas actually looks excited at the prospect of leaving the house together, which draws a helpless smile out of Dean. “We’re leaving in ten minutes, is that OK?”

“Sure.” He uncurls himself from the chair in the living area, where he's been re-reading an old copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_ and stretches; he doesn't miss how Cas’ eyes flick to the exposed skin of his stomach when his t-shirt rises up. Cas, pink-cheeked, turns and hurries away to rally the kids while Dean saunters towards his own room to change, smiling genuinely now.

This _thing_ between him and Cas is beautiful, and it's something he wants to cherish and protect. They've done nothing but exchange soft, stolen kisses and sweet embraces for almost a week, and it feels so pure that both of them are loathe to push any further. So far, Dean’s favourite moments have been Cas walking up behind him while he's washing the dishes, sliding his arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. Cas cuddling up against him out on the decking while the kids play in the sand and paddle in the ocean. Cas standing on tiptoe to kiss him goodnight, even though ten minutes later they end up cuddling up in bed together. Cas tasting of toothpaste and stardust, when they lie in bed and explore each other's mouths in the moonlight.

“Dean? Are you ready to go?”

Shit, he's been daydreaming too long. He pulls on his jeans and a comfy sweater of Cas’ before heading out to the hallway where the twins are engaged in a heated squabble about who gets to hold the purple dinosaur toy in the car - Dean settles it by snagging the stuffed bunny from his place of abandonment (the sofa) and Cas goes all shiny-eyed watching them interact.

A half hour later, after repeated encores of ‘Billie, where's your shoe? No, the _other_ shoe’ and ‘Lexie, your jacket is the wrong way up… no… _no_ … how have you managed that?! Let Dean help you’ they eventually bundle themselves into Cas’ creaking old Prius, and set off for the town.

Dean stares in fascination out of the window. The coast road leads up high, away from the beach, and is lined with trees on one side until the road curves in and they're surrounded by tall redwoods. The constant chatter of the twins from their car seats is music to his ears, and he finds himself grinning for no real reason at all as Cas drives with the windows down and hums a tune to himself. Dean suddenly experiences the odd sensation of falling, and grips the edges of the seat. The way he feels when he looks at Cas… it feels just like…

“Daddy!” Billie pipes up excitedly from the back. “Guess what?”

“What, baby?” Cas looks amused, smiling just a little, as though he already knows the answer.

“It's my birthday soon! And Lexie’s! His is on the _same_ _day_!”

“Really? You don't say? And when is that?”

“Umm,” There's a short pause as Billie tries to work it out. “Yesterday.”

Cas laughs, deep and rich, and Dean can't help but join in. “Yesterday? Are you sure? I think Dean and I may have missed it if it was.”

“Umm, maybe tomorrow?”

“Or maybe it's on Saturday?” Cas catches his son’s eye in the rear view mirror and the boy grins triumphantly.

“Yes! _Saturday_ , daddy. It's on Saturday.”

“Can we have cake?” Lexie pipes up and Billie shrieks in agreement.

“Yes, I'm sure there will be cake. And ice cream. And maybe a present each if you're very lucky.”

“We will be!” Billie proclaims with a smile, settling back in his car seat and folding his arms, and Dean has to laugh. The kid is so precocious and cheerful that he would bring a smile to anyone's lips.

“And how old will you be?” He twists in his seat to look at the twins, who glance at each other and frown in simultaneous consternation.

“Four.”

“Really? Four? Aren't you four now?”

“Yes…” Lexie looks nonplussed, sticking a finger in his mouth and looking as though he's waiting for the answer to fall into his head.

“So, if you're four now and your birthday is on Saturday, that means you'll be one year older. Right? So how old will that make you?”

“ _Five!_ ” It’s shrieked out in unison, and the twins giggle happily when Dean gives them a thumbs up and a proud nod.

“Well done, guys. You two are so smart.”

“Thanks!” Billie again, with his huge smile, and Cas laughs heartily from the front seat.

“My humble children. They're a dream.”

“They are, Cas.” Dean settles back in his seat facing the correct way and, with a sudden boldness, reaches over and takes Cas’ hand from where it's been resting on his thigh. At the touch of his fingers, Cas squeezes gently and turns to shoot him a look that makes Dean’s toes curl with what he can only describe as joy. “You should be so proud of them.”

“I am. I really am.” Cas’ happy smile says it all, and it stays on his face right up to the moment Billie giggles mischievously and throws a half-empty yoghurt pot at the back of Dean’s head.

*

The town is nice enough. It's small, with one main street and a handful of shops and cafes. Cas tells him there's a bar and a library, a small school and a gymnasium, if he ever wants it.

“I normally take the kids to book club every Saturday morning,” he tells Dean as he parks the car and cuts the engine. “They enjoy it, and the woman who runs it - Jo Harvelle, you'll have to meet her - is wonderful. She's a teacher down at the school, and they'll be in her class when they start.”

They spend a while wandering up and down the street, the kids pulling them towards shop windows to look at displays, and Cas pulls them to a stop when he realises he forgot to put sun block on their faces. Dean steals the bottle from him and wipes smears onto Lexie’s face as he giggles and wriggles about, and Dean ruffles his hair affectionately. It should be freaking him out, how attached to this kid he's becoming. Billie too, but the other boy is fiercely independent and less enamoured with what the grown-ups are doing, whereas Lexie is all cuddles and affection and sweet smiles, and Dean can feel a strong bond beginning to form. An icy voice stabs at him, asking if it's such a good idea to bond with the kids when he might not be staying around forever, but he quells it quickly. He can't think like this. It will destroy any chance he has at happiness with Cas if he does.

“Look, Dean!” Lexie pulls his hand and Dean obediently follows him to the window of the bookshop. The store sells gifts and trinkets as well, and they stare together for a moment until Lexie’s fingers pull at Dean’s shirt - he's familiar with this now, and he leans down and scoops the kid effortlessly into his arms.

“See something you like?”

“Yes!” A finger is pressed against the glass, leaving a smear of sun cream. “He looks just like Bunny!”

And sure enough, there's a rabbit propped up in the window almost identical to Bunny, but a soft grey with big amber eyes.

“But you already have Bunny. Do you need another one?”

“Silly,” Lexie shoves at his chest affectionately. “Not _another_ Bunny. They would be _brothers_. Like me and Billie, and daddy and Uncle Jimmy… do you have a brother?”

“Yes.” Dean shifts the kid on his hip. “His name is Sam.”

“And like you and Sam. Brothers.” The kid is all shining eyes and sweet smiles, and Dean is _so_ tempted to buy him the bunny as a gift. Then he remembers that their birthday is on Saturday, and decides to ask Cas later if he can borrow the car for an hour. He might as well make use of some of that cash he has stowed away, and buying the boy's birthday presents seems like one of the best ways to spend it.

“Would Billie like a bunny too?”

“Umm,” Lexie shoves a finger in his mouth and thinks. It looks like hard work. “No. _That_ one for Billie.” He points, leaning forward in Dean’s arms, and Dean follows his finger. It's an elephant, the same brand as the bunnies, with floppy ears and a long trunk, a matching soft, velvety grey. Dean logs that information for later, slides Lexie to the ground, and they catch up with Cas and Billie who have been looking in the window of a bakery.

They walk together across the street to the farmers market, and that's when the fun really starts, in Dean’s opinion. The kids evidently _love_ grocery shopping, and since Cas seems to have the patience of a saint it turns into a pretty entertaining trip. Cas sends them off to get a variety of items, and minutes later they turn up with half a dozen completely different things, looking proud as punch. Dean decides to get in on the action too, and walks around with the kids trying to find the most obscure things possible to take back to Cas. It takes them over half an hour to leave the fruit and veg section, and by that point Cas’ smile is starting to look a little strained. Dean slings an arm around him as the kids squabble over which cheese they would like, and kisses Cas lightly on the cheek. He doesn't realise he's done it until he's pulling away and Cas is looking at him in astonishment, a pleasant pink flush staining his cheeks. For a second he thinks he's overstepped a boundary and is about to mumble an embarrassed apology when Cas leans in and pecks him on the mouth, and then he's grinning all over again.

They walk together down the cereal aisle, Dean’s arm resting comfortably over Cas’ shoulder, and Cas pushing the cart with one hand while his other reaches up to link with Dean’s. It's so goddamn _domestic_ , shopping for groceries with Cas and the kids, walking around smiling with arms around each other, and Dean loves every freakin’ second of it. They haven't even _done_ anything yet, nothing sexual, but it somehow feels like they've bypassed all the awkwardness that Dean recalls from the first few months of previous relationships, and gone straight for domestic bliss. And it's definitely domestic fucking bliss; he can't remember ever feeling this happy.

“So, the kids are havin’ a birthday, hmm?”

“Yes,” Cas looks suddenly sheepish. “I kept meaning to tell you, but…” he trails off, eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips. “I kept getting distracted.”

“I don't blame you, I'm very distracting.” They share a kiss, all smiles and childish giggling, until Cas nudges him away to grab something from one of the twins.

“You're a dork. I honestly forgot to tell you; I've invited a few kids from their play group round in the afternoon, along with their parents. Is that all right?”

It takes Dean a second to gather up a response, he's so shocked and touched that Cas would even _think_ to ask his opinion. “Of course it is. It's your house, you can invite whoever you like, you don't need to bother asking me.” He's blushing, and turns to busy himself with the eggs.

“Of course I do. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable or feel like I was forcing it on you. Billie, that isn't the right one. Yes, that one, please.”

“I thought you hated having people in your house.” He kisses Cas on the temple affectionately, delighting in the pleased grin he gets in return.

“I do. Jimmy forced me, said it will be good for the kids, and he's right.” Cas frowns, considering. “I hate when he’s right. OK, this is taking forever. Think you can choose some cereal while I try and round these two up? Something _we_ will enjoy as well, so something for adults?”

“Aww, no Lucky Charms?”

“Gross, Dean, no. And please don't say that near Billie, he’ll be on a sugar high just thinking about them!”

Cas wanders off, a blue-eyed twin winding in and out of his legs and dragging him this way and that, and Dean watches them go. Cas is… so fucking different. Different to anyone he's ever contemplated dating before. He's so relaxed and laid-back, all ripped jeans and old sweaters, the kids in clothing from the thrift stores because Cas prefers not to buy mass-produced, unethical stuff. Lisa had been the polar opposite; not high-maintenance but in that ballpark. She loved her clothes and makeup, loved going out for dinner at expensive restaurants, and her kid Ben always had the latest kicks and the most expensive games console. Dean is sure the twins have never seen a Playstation before, and their well-loved, hand-me-down matching Converse haven't been new for years. Cas finds pleasure in the smallest things: only that morning he had been mending a little wooden house which he explained to Dean was designed for bees to congregate in, and he loves to sit and count the stars and constellations late at night, marvelling at the unknown worlds sparkling above them while Dean just stares at him, mesmerised in wonder. Cas probably has no idea what he does to Dean, how magnetic he is or how much Dean loves… Shit. That's a big word. They've only known each other a very short time.

Dean grins sheepishly to himself, rubbing the back of his neck and thinking hard. He's been on the brink of thinking the Big L Word twice now today, in the space of an hour. He supposes that must mean something. He's heard of people falling for each other at lightning speed, but always imagined such sweeping romance would never happen to him. But now, in the middle of nowhere with a man he never knew existed until a few weeks ago, he feels like he's been dropped into the middle of his own epic love story.

Cas and the twins have disappeared round the corner now, and Dean sets his mind to the task at hand. Cereal. No junk. Healthy crap that tastes like cardboard. He can do this. He's holding a packet in his hand a moment later, examining the back and trying to discern if it has too many E-numbers in for the kids to eat, when an unfamiliar whispered voice behind him sends chills up his spine.

“Is that Dean Winchester?”

He whips around, searching for the source of the question, but nobody appears to be looking at him. The other shoppers are entirely focused on what they're doing, on their carts or the items in their hands, and absolutely no-one is approaching him. He's conscious of his doubled heart-rate, of the dampness under his arms, and suddenly he's aware of a small hand taking his and tugging until he looks down. It's Billie, who is holding out a banana to him and grinning like he's just told a really funny joke. Shakily, Dean sets the cereal box back down - noticing that it's now crushed from his death-grip on it, wordlessly takes the banana and tries to breathe deep and slow. He casts about again, but nobody is looking at them. Nobody is coming for them, he's fine. He's _fine._ Shit.

_There's nobody there, Dean. Nobody knows you here. You're safe, you're with Cas, everything is all right… you imagined it, Dean, you must have done…_

“Dean? Oh god, are you all right?”

Cas is suddenly in front of him, half bent down and prising Billie’s fingers from Dean’s hand; he now realises he’s been gripping the boy a little too tight, and that he had been staring at something a mile in the distance with glazed, frightened eyes for God knows how long. Billie is looking up at him curiously, and Dean releases him in horror, suddenly terrified he's hurt him. He reaches for Billie with desperate, frightened movements and the little boy blinks up at him in surprise. And is that… fear? Is Billie hurt? Has Dean _hurt_ Billie?

_This can't be happening, not again, not again… I didn't mean to, I didn't mean it…_

“Cas… _Cas_ , I'm sorry, I didn't mean to grip him like that, is he all right? I'm _so_ sorry, forgive me, Cas, please forgive me. Is he hurt, did I hurt him-”

“Dean.” Strong hands come down on his shoulders. “Dean, stop. He's fine. Take a breath, everything is fine.” The hands slide down his arms, encircling his wrists, and Dean tries desperately to focus on Cas’ blue eyes. There are people staring now, definitely looking over with curiosity in their eyes and he _knows_ that look, he's _seen_ people looking at him like this before and _oh god_ there are too many people here. It's not safe, he _isn't safe_. His chest is aching and his throat so tight he's struggling to draw breath. Shit. _Shit_. He can't do this here, can't descend into a full-blown panic attack. Cas will be _so_ freaked out… _fuck_. Sam’s harsh words come screaming back to him: ‘attention seeking… melodramatic… pull it together… embarrassing us both…’ Oh god, he doesn't want to embarrass Cas, he _doesn't._

“Dean!”

Cas shakes him, hard, and the fright in his eyes is mimicked by two more sets of baby blues staring up at him from a few feet below and he can't contain a low cry of distress as memories overwhelm him, wrapping around him like a vice and constricting. Blue eyes staring up at him…

_Green eyes, Dean, her eyes were green, not blue. They weren't blue… remember? Of course you remember, you'll never fucking forget, will you? Dean, she's not here… it's just the twins, just the twins… breathe… breathe…_

But he can't. He feels like someone is tightening a belt around his upper body, and spots are starting to appear in front of his vision. The feeling is starting to ebb away in his hands and feet, replaced by numbness, a sure fire sign that he's not getting enough oxygen in, and that thought makes a bolt of panic stab through him. _Fuck_ , he needs to breathe, _why_ can't he draw breath…?

“ _Dean_!”

Cas’ voice is suddenly sounding very far away and distorted, and his vision greys out for a second. When it comes back in to focus, one of the twins is right in front of him, reaching a tiny hand out towards him with tears in his eyes, something hard is against his back and he's not standing up any more; he can hear someone calling his name in the distance. Everything blurs again, then goes dark.

*

The car journey home is quiet and tense, with the twins playing with their respective toys without talking, aware that something happened at the market that shouldn't have done, although they're much too young to understand anything. He's grateful for that. Dean rests his head miserably against the cool glass, watching the trees whip by and trying to regain his energy. He's fucked up. Fucked up big style, and he won't be surprised if Cas politely asks him if he would like a ride to the train station when they get home. He must be _so_ embarrassed. His first time taking Dean out to show him where he lives, and Dean freaks out and has a panic attack, then passes out on the floor of the farmers market. By all accounts, Cas had to talk the freaked out cashiers out of calling an ambulance, whilst dealing with two crying kids and trying to shield Dean from ‘rubber-necking nosy fuckers’ as he had so candidly put it. Dean feels his face flame again in humiliation. Cas must _loathe_ him. Upsetting his kids in front of everyone… ugh. He's biting back tears, watching as his breath clouds on the window, and screws his eyes shut to try and hold back a wave of shame.

He's fucked up. Again. All he does is fuck everything up. Yeah, this is small on the scale of ‘things Dean Winchester has epically screwed up in his thirty-something years’, but it's still a failure. Still enough to wreck his brand new relationship with Cas - if it even _was_ a relationship to begin with. Cas must realise now that he doesn't need Dean and his _problems,_ his _past_ cluttering up his life. It's obviously over now, and Cas is just waiting until his kids are safely out of earshot before either ripping Dean a new one or just asking him to go. He isn't sure which would be worse. Probably the latter, especially if it comes with a side order of cold disappointment. Which it will, he has no doubt. Fuck, now he's crying. He tries to surreptitiously wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater, hoping Cas is too focused on the road to notice.

No such luck. But it isn't the reaction he's expecting.

“Hey,” Cas’ voice is soft and lilting, and a warm hand comes down on his thigh and squeezes gently. “You OK?”

Dean nods, choked up and lying. Cas sees straight through it, he can tell by the incline of his head even though Dean is still staring resolutely out of the window and refuses to look directly at him. He's too humiliated, and too afraid of what he might see in Cas’ blue eyes.

_Blue eyes, not green. Blue._

The fingers on his thigh squeeze gently, then move to clasp his hand. Cas’ skin is warm and his touch gentle, and Dean can't help it. A strangled sob leaves him as he realises he may never get to touch Cas again after this car journey. After Cas makes him leave. He covers his face with his free hand, feeling just as drained and exhausted as when he was recovering from his fever, and prays the journey home never ends.

He doesn't see the look of concern on Cas’ face, the tears of sadness in Cas’ eyes as he tries to imagine what had frightened Dean so badly, or the twins behind him trying to reach for him, trying to share their toys and pet his hair, trying to make him smile again. He just cries quietly into his palm, already mourning a loss he hasn't yet had to face.


	7. Chapter 7

“Billie, Lexie, go play in your room, please. I need to talk to Dean.”

Cas dumps the bags on the kitchen counter with more force than necessary, not turning to look at his kids when he speaks to them. Dean thinks his shoulders tremble a little as he moves, and another wave of fear crashes down on him. He's seen this before, this restrained tension and clipped tone, when other people have broken up with him in the past. But then, is this even a break up, since they never really got started?

“But daddy…”

“ _Now,_ William!” Cas barks, and the twins shrink back, holding hands and retreating to the safety of their bedroom. The sound of the door clicking shut behind them is like a gunshot in the silent room. Dean puts down the paper bags he's carrying with hands that definitely shake much more than he would like them to. He clenches them into fists on the worktop, ducks his head and tries to ground himself. He can do this. He can survive this. It's just another loss, to add to his mental chalkboard tally. He will be fine. Just _fine_.

A warm palm comes to rest between his shoulder blades and he jerks away violently, unprepared for the gentle touch. Cas’ eyes widen and he moves away, hands up in front of him in a gesture of submission.

“Sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to… are you all right?” Cas seems to mentally shake himself after asking, and heads to the sink. Dean just watches, paralysed, waiting for the killing blow to fall. A second later, a cool glass of water is pressed into his hands, a chocolate bar drops onto he counter in front of him, and Cas is dragging out a stool and gesturing for him to sit down. He does, mystified and wary, and obediently sips the water. Cas takes a seat opposite him, his hands forming a steeple on the table in front of him, and the silence stretches on and on.

“Do you want…” Dean swallows, hard. “Shall I…” _Come on, you coward. If he isn't going to say it, you should._ “How far is it to the train station?”

Cas recoils as if he's been slapped, and two pink smears appear on his cheeks.

“What?”

“Just,” Dean bangs the glass down on the table, his last reserves of energy rapidly depleting. He covers his eyes with his palm, so Cas doesn't have to see the defeat in his eyes. “Get it over with, Cas. Please. Don't do me any favours.”

“Get it… Dean, what are you talking about?” He sounds so bewildered that Dean can't decide whether to laugh or cry. He knows his exhaustion is seeping into his voice, making it sound sharper and angrier than he means to, but he's done. He's so done. He thought he had something here, thought he had a chance to be _happy…_ Stupid, stupid Dean. Always chasing things he can't have.

“Cas. Don't play stupid fucking games. I know I fucked up, all right? I embarrassed you, I scared the twins, I made a fucking mess of everything. So just save the fake-ass sympathy and tell me to leave, because that's what you want to do. Just get it over with, it's easier for both of us that way.”

Silence greets his words, stretching out for too long, and eventually Dean is forced to lower his hand to look at the other man. Cas has a hand over his mouth and looks, frankly, distraught. A lump forms in Dean’s throat as he flirts with the idea that maybe, possibly he's misread the situation. He doesn't dare let himself hope that Cas might let him stay, because having hope in things has always kicked him in the teeth in the past.

“Dean, you think I'd… ask you to leave? Because you had a panic attack?” Cas’ voice is so small it's barely recognisable. “That's what you think?”

“I… Cas, I just…” Shit. Now he's upset Cas. He can't do _anything_ right. “I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have held it together, I shouldn't have embarrassed you that way, I just-”

“Dean!” Cas’ voice breaks as he loses control and all but shouts at him from across the table. His eyes are red and damp, his cheeks flushed, and he's on the verge of full-blown tears. It's Dean’s turn to recoil. “Stop! Stop apologising! You haven't done _anything_ wrong, why would you even think that?” He doesn’t give Dean a chance to answer; he’s up and off his stool and at Dean’s side, hands reaching for him but stopping just before making contact, and up close Dean can see that Cas is _really_ emotional. As in, looks-like-he-might-crack-at-any-second emotional. “I would _never_ ask you to leave over something like that!”

“But…” Dean can’t tear his eyes away from glassy blue depths. “I embarrassed you. I fucked up.”

“You _didn’t._ God, Dean, it was a panic attack, you weren’t in control. You didn’t embarrass me at all, I was _worried_ about you. I didn’t know what to do, how to help you, and the kids were distracting me and causing a scene… I just wanted to help. That’s all, and I felt so powerless. You could _never_ embarrass me, ever. What on earth would make you think that?”

Dean wants to answer, but feels weirdly disloyal to his friends and family back home if he does. Nobody ever understood, despite everything that had happened. He thought they would. He thought Sam would, which is why he phoned him once when he was starting to fall, and Sam had barked harshly at him down the phone for interrupting a meeting and hung up, leaving Dean to lose control of his breathing so badly that he collapsed and hit his head on the table on the way down, waking up alone hours later, the floor stained with blood. He thought Benny would and the other man had tried, to his credit. But he hadn’t, not really. Especially when he had once broken down at a baseball game and a concerned woman in the row behind them had called an ambulance. He had never seen Benny look humiliated before, but it wasn’t an expression he would forget. Bobby didn’t get it at all, he just thought Dean needed to eat and sleep better and stop worrying so much, and he hid them from Lisa out of fear, fear of being seen as weak when he was meant to be the strong one in their relationship, the husband-material, the father-figure. He doesn’t realise how long he hasn’t spoken for until Cas’ hand comes into his field of vision on the kitchen counter, and he glances up into kind, concerned eyes which seem to reflect a deeper emotion, one Dean doesn’t dare to hope for.

“Dunno, Cas. I guess people never really got it before. It’s stupid really.”

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and shrugs. He was prepared for being yelled at and kicked out. He wasn’t prepared for kindness. Cas traces patterns onto the counter top, and they both watch his fingers for a moment.

“No, Dean, it isn’t. If it’s important enough to upset you, it could never be stupid. I want to be there to help if it happens again - I hate the thought of you feeling alone throughout something like that. Never feel like you’d embarrass me or whatever, because it simply isn’t true.” Cas swallows hard, his blue eyes glimmering. “Whatever it was, Dean,” Cas is looking at him again, his gaze penetrating and nerve-wracking all at once. “Whatever drove you out here, whatever it is that haunts you. You can always talk to me about it. _Always._ And I’m not asking you to. I wouldn’t dream of pushing you, because I know what it’s like to be forced to talk about something when you’re not ready. But nothing you could say would push me away. Nothing.” And he means it, he really does. It’s evident in the tremor in his voice, in the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Thanks.” Dean can’t manage more than that. His throat hurts, and his skin feels too tight. Cas is being too good to him, and he doesn’t know it but he’s just lied to Dean. What Dean’s done… Cas won’t just accept it with open arms, there’s no way he can. And Dean isn’t ready to tell him yet, isn’t ready to shatter the tentative illusion of their lives, especially since he feels like it was almost broken apart this afternoon, and Cas has rescued it.

“Never think that I want you to go, Dean. Never. You always… uhm,” Cas falters, and it’s so uncharacteristic that Dean stares. Cas always knows what to say, when to say it, and never stammers or seems unsure. “You always have a place here. Whatever happens between us, wherever our paths might go… you can always come back here. I’ll always be here. And I want you to know that.” He rubs his neck self-consciously, and studies his fingernails, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

Wait. What did Cas just say? Dean shakes his head to clear it, disbelief coursing through him, and just stares, open-mouthed, at the other man.

Dean has never had a place to go. Has never been told he has somewhere, somewhere to come back to, and it sounds suspiciously like Cas is suggesting he has a home here. That’s what a home is, isn’t it? A place to return to. A place to belong. Something other people have, not Dean. Sam has a home, with his wife Jess. Benny has a home back in Kansas, Bobby has a home, Lisa and Ben have a home. He's lived in other people’s homes but has never felt like he was truly wanted, not even as a kid. His father was glad he was around to look after Sammy and keep the place tidy while he went out and drank himself stupid. But nobody has ever offered their home to him so openly, with such genuine, open kindness in their eyes, and it’s overwhelming.

And being offered it here, by the man who took him in and gave him everything he never knew he needed, is the moment that Dean knows he’s in love.

“You scare me, Dean, you know that?” Cas is speaking softly now, a strange note of wonder in his voice. He’s moved forward, is standing between Dean’s spread legs, and is looking down at him with the strangest expression on his face. “I’ve never felt like this about _anyone_ before. Not even Cole, and we were _married_. We’ve only known each other a few weeks, but… I feel like…” Cas takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then speaks words Dean never thought he’d ever hear directed at him, from someone like Cas. “I think… I _know_ … I’m falling in love with you.”

Dean’s breath stops. Cas is close to him, so fucking close, but not touching. Not yet. He’s waiting for permission like the perfect, perfect human being he is. And Dean can’t take it any more; he’s worn down, emotionally raw from the events of the afternoon, and all he wants is Cas. The other man is looking at him like he’s some sort of god, and that expression mixed with the beautiful words? It breaks Dean. He throws himself at Cas, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders and buries his face in his neck, inhaling sweet cinnamon and the scent of _Cas_ , and bursts into tears.

*

“Are you all right?”

Dean doesn't know why he's whispering. But Cas is beneath him, is so beautiful, and is looking up at him with such trust in his eyes that Dean is afraid that speaking too loudly will shatter the spell that has settled upon them. He shifts his hips a little, settling more comfortably between Cas’ legs, and drinks in the low gasp of pleasure that spills from the other man’s lips. Dean is naked, and Cas is in nothing but his underwear, and they've been locked in an intimate embrace, slowly kissing and touching and exploring each other's bodies for almost an hour. What had started off as shy, intense excitement following Cas’ confession in the kitchen has now turned into a burning need, and Dean is doing everything in his power to take things slowly. He knows Cas is nervous. Knows Cas hasn't been with anyone for years, is worried about his body and if Dean will like him when he's stripped down naked and exposed, and he's more than a little shy about asking for what he likes. Dean knows it all, and is going to spent the rest of the night assuaging all of Cas’ worries and worshipping him just as he deserves. He can't believe Cas would ever think himself anything other than devastatingly handsome.

Scratch that. Cas is _beautiful._ Expanses of glowing skin kissed by the sun - with _no_ tan lines, which suggests Cas sunbathes naked sometimes, and damn if Dean doesn't want to know all about _that -_ and darkened to a beautiful honey bronze, lean calves and thick thighs from running on the beach, hard lines carving out sculpted abs, obliques, and hip flexors that Dean can't wait to run his tongue along, and those are just a few of his favourite things. He could look at Cas all day long and feel like he's staring at the face of a god. He can't believe the stars have aligned to allow him to touch someone so incredible, and he plans to make the most of every damn minute.

He kisses Cas deeply, licking in to his mouth to taste every part of him he can reach, and when he pulls back for air they're both panting. Cas reaches up and runs a hand through his own hair, eyes dark and intense and his lips slick from Dean’s kisses. Dean realises he didn't get an answer so he repeats his question, quietly against Cas’ lips 

“I think so,” is the answer he gets, and he pulls back to look at the other man in consternation. There was something in Cas’ voice, a slightly crack that has him concerned.

“You sure?”

Suddenly, the dark eyes look less aroused and more scared, and Dean props himself up on his forearms to wait for clarification. He keeps his hands busy by playing with Cas’ hair and stroking his jaw in, what he hopes, is a sign of comfort.

“I… yes, Dean. I'm fine. I promise.” Cas tries to catch his lips, but Dean isn't buying it.

“Tell me, Cas. Please. I need to know what's going on in your head; I need to know this is what you want.”

“It _is_ Dean, you have no idea.” Now Cas’ expression is a mixture of frustration, discord and unhappiness, and that is _not_ what Dean wants to see on the other man’s face. He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and waits for more. “I'm just… I guess I'm just a little… scared.” Cas won't meet his eyes, and that hurts just a little. “I'm scared I won't be good enough for you. That you won't… enjoy it with me. That I won't know how to make it good for you. What if I can’t remember what to do? Or how to do it? It's been so _long_ , and you could have _anyone_ you want, so what on earth do I have to offer you, and…”

“Cas.” This time, Dean’s voice is the one cracking. “I don't want anyone else. I want you. _You're_ incredible, and whatever happens between us will be incredible. If you're not ready then we can take it as slow as you want to; the last thing I want to do is hurt you, or make you feel like you _have_ to do this.”

“I want to, Dean. But… but…” Cas looks like he's about to tear up, and Dean frantically kisses him, determined to show Cas he's the only one on the planet for him.

“You're beautiful, Cas.”

A snuffle and a slightly watery smile is his reply. “And you're blind.”

It would be so easy to come out with a line, something flirty and unbearably cheesy like ‘blinded by your beauty’ but it doesn't feel right. Instead, Dean puts all he has into his gaze, and hopes Cas understands when he says quietly, with a burning intensity, “No. I'm not.”

For a second, the blue eyes widen in shock and Dean knows Cas gets it. Then Cas leans up to capture his mouth and they're kissing again, but it's different to before. The heat has dissipated somewhat but it's been replaced by a powerful intimacy, which is somehow so much more erotic and arousing than Dean could ever have imagined. He throws caution to the wind and reaches down with one hand, propping himself on his other forearm so he doesn't crush Cas, and hooks his thumb under the waistband of the burnt-orange boxer-briefs, then pulls back just a little.

“You sure?” He whispers into Cas’ open mouth, and the little mewl he receives in response goes straight between his legs.

“Yes, Dean. I'm sure.”

Then Dean is pulling Castiel’s underwear down and tossing them away, and they're lying naked together in a tangle of limbs, and Dean swears he's found his heaven. He uses his mouth and his fingers to open Cas up, rimming him slow and deep and making him writhe on his hand, and then moments later he’s kneeling between honeyed-golden thighs, lining up his cock with Cas’ tight hole, and pushing into him as Cas’ legs wrap around his waist. He’s bare, no condom, because Cas stopped him with needy, lust-filled dark eyes and shook his head when he ripped one open. Cas gasps, arches under him, and then it’s just _them_ , joined together and moving in sync, and as he comes Dean has to fight back the desire to cry. Cas, however, succumbs to that urge and buries his face in Dean’s neck as his orgasm tears through him, sobbing into his shoulder and holding him tight enough for it to ache.

They stay together in a tangle of limbs and sheets, Dean lying between Cas’ thighs and kissing him deeply, kissing his tears away and telling him how much he loves him. The words flow so easily, like he’s been saying them for months, and he can’t stop them; he repeats it over and over, how he loves Cas, how beautiful Cas is, how he’s changed Dean’s life, how he can’t ever live without him. It just makes Cas cry harder, and in the end Dean can’t hold back his own emotion, and soon they’re crying together, laughing, kissing, and they spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms.

*

“Deeeeeeeean?”

Lexie is sitting on Dean’s lap at the kitchen counter, the pair of them perched on one of the stools with all the doors and windows thrown open to let the summer breeze in. The little boy is drawing a picture with colourful crayons, and Dean has been trying to guess for ages what it is - and hasn’t quite worked it out yet. They've finished breakfast, Cas has been for a run, and now they're enjoying the morning sunshine. Cas and Billie are somewhere around, outside playing by the sounds of it and Dean cranes his neck to see. Sure enough, Billie is practicing handstands in the sand, and Cas is catching his legs, occasionally sweeping him up off the ground by his ankles and swinging him around in a circle as the boy shrieks with laughter. He’s positively glowing, pink-cheeked and bright eyed, constantly grinning, and Dean smiles knowing the exact reason why. _He’s_ the reason why. Their night together and the slow morning sex they had shared as dawn broke is the reason why. Their intimate and erotic shower together, exploring every inch of each other’s bodies with gentle hands and hot mouths is the reason why. Their stolen, secretive kiss as the boys woke up and ran into the kitchen demanding breakfast is the reason why. Lexie pokes him in the ribs and Dean looks back to the picture. It looks a bit like a pink daisy with horns.

“Yeeees?”

“Are you staying forever?”

“I…” _I hope so. I want to. I would give_ anything _to._ “I’d really like to. You guys are pretty cool, you know that?”

“I do.” Lexie sticks his tongue out in concentration, scribbling hard with an orange crayon. “My daddy loves you. I heard him telling Uncle Jimmy last night.”

“You… you did?” Warmth spreads through Dean from his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, and his skin tingles pleasantly. It wasn’t a dream. Cas _loves_ him.

“Uh huh. Do you love him? Are you going to get married?”

“I have no idea.” Dean smiles, kissing the boy absent-mindedly on the top of his head. “You’ll have to ask your daddy.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon with a small, secret smile at the corner of his mouth, and every time Cas asks him about it he just shakes his head, slings an arm around his shoulders and kisses him until he forgets the question.


	8. Chapter 8

Jimmy comes over for lunch the following day, and Dean has major jitters while waiting for him to arrive. He desperately wants to impress Cas’ twin, especially since their relationship has taken a very pleasant and very rapid turn into something that feels pretty serious. Is he Cas’ boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Just a _friend_? No, he assures himself, definitely not just a friend. Friends don't confess their love for each other then cry about it. Not often, anyway.

He's tearing up some lettuce to make a salad, and doesn't realise he's shredded it into pieces the size of rice grains until a warm hand on his forearm makes him jolt and glance up. Cas is looking down at his handiwork with barely-concealed amusement.

“Need a hand, chef?”

“Uhm,” Dean stares down sadly at the wilting pile of lettuce. “Maybe?”

“Go sit down and entertain the kids.” Cas nudges him away from the counter. “Stop Billie from drawing on whatever he's probably trying to draw on; I spend my life cleaning crayon marks from the floor. Perhaps I'm wiping away the work of the next Picasso, but I severely doubt it. Go!” Dean has opened his mouth to protest; he closes it again with a snap. “I'll do the food. And stop worrying about my brother, his bark is much worse than his bite.”

“It's the barking I'm worried about,” Dean grumbles to himself, wiping his hands on a towel and obediently heading over to where the boys are sitting with colouring books on the floor by the open glass doors. He settles cross-legged on the floor with his back against the sofa, but before he can ask what they're up to Lexie has unfurled himself from his spot on the floor, picked up a book and climbed into Dean’s lap. He smiles up at him, lets the book fall open and grabs Dean’s hand.

“You read it. You do it.”

“Um, all right…” He looks down over Lexie’s dark head in an attempt to read the upside-down book, when Cas’ voice comes from the kitchen.

“Lexie, why don't you show Dean how good you are at naming all the animals? Remember, we practiced it yesterday?”

They sit together for a while, Lexie calling out the names of various farmyard animals, until they turn a page and reach jungle creatures, and it's at this point that Lexie stumbles and needs help. Dean points out a tiger, a giraffe, and an elephant, then they turn to the next page where the birds are.

“What's that one, daddy?” Lexie points to a brightly-coloured parrot on the page, and looks up at Dean with his innocent blue eyes, thumb in his mouth, and Dean jerks with a sudden bolt of emotion. _What_ did Lexie just call him?

“Uh, uhm, uh,” He fumbles over his words, blushing right to the tips of his ears, and by the sink Cas has looked up in shock. “It's, um, it's _Dean_ , Lexie, not daddy. Daddy is over there, look.”

He lifts an arm to point and at that moment, of course, Jimmy decides to walk in and by the scandalised expression on his face he's clearly overheard. For _fuck’s_ sake. Cas’ children and their slip-ups are going to be the death of him, he swears. But at the same time, he can't help the warm, pleased glow that has spread through him at Lexie’s words. It's incorrect, much too fast, and probably something Cas is internally balking at, but the idea that the kid is comfortable enough around him to see him as a parental figure is staggering. He's wiping dampness from his eyes surreptitiously as the kids yell their hellos and run across the room to jump on their uncle. As he stands, a photo of Cas and Cole with their arms slung around each other's shoulders taunts him from a bookcase. Cole’s frozen expression seems to be coolly calculating, trying to work Dean out. Trying to see if he's muscling in on his family…

“Hello, Dean.” Jimmy has materialised in front of him, hand extended and his face working into something akin to a smile. It's closer to a snarl, but Dean takes his hand anyway and shakes it, feeling Jimmy’s fingernails dig in just a bit too much. “How nice to see you again.”

“You too, Jimmy.”

And he tries to make it sound as genuine as possible because, despite his nerves, he _is_ keen to see Jimmy again and attempt to build some bridges. Although _why_ the guy keeps overhearing the most inappropriate things ever from the twins, he doesn't know. Karmic retribution on some scale, or maybe it's one of God’s little jokes. Like the platypus, and taxes. _Focus_ , Dean, make small talk, come on now.

“Have you, uh, been busy?”

“Very.” There's a glint in the blue eyes that Dean isn't sure he likes. “I work long hours. Not all of us can laze around in someone else’s house all day; _some_ of us have jobs to go to.”

“Oh, shut up, Jimmy.” Cas barges past his brother to hand Dean a cold beer before he can formulate an equally catty reply. “Leave him alone. Dean has been helping me around the house, looking after the kids… I love having him around.” He blushes as he speaks, a shy smile at the corner of his mouth, then scoops Billie up to wipe marker pen off his face with a damp cloth. “I even went running this morning while Dean gave them their breakfast. It's what you wanted, isn't it? Me getting some time for myself? Meeting someone? Being _happy_?”

Jimmy only nods grudgingly, and Dean hides a smirk. One point to him and Cas. Then, immediately, he chastises himself: this can't be an ‘us versus Jimmy’ situation. He's new to Cas’ life, and plus he genuinely does want to make a good impression on the guy. It just might take a bit more work than he bargained for. They settle around the table, Jimmy fussing over the kids and cutting up their food while Dean serves himself and Cas. It’s stilted, awkward, and Dean is conscious of Jimmy’s eyes watching his every move. Eventually they’re all settled, Dean in between the boys and Cas next to Jimmy, and they finally tuck into their lunch. Every mouthful is like a little taste of heaven; Castiel’s cooking skills are second-to-none, even with something as basic as a chicken and avocado salad. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever had avocado before - unless it came as guacamole on top of a grease-laden burger - but he almost swoons at the first mouthful. Damn, Cas can cook lunch for him every day for the rest of his life if this is what it tastes like.

“So, Dean.” Jimmy spears a piece of chicken and, next to him, Cas rolls his eyes. He seems to sense what’s coming. “We should get to know each other. Tell me about yourself.”

“Jimmy, this isn’t a job interview.” Cas chastises, reaching over to tear up a piece of lettuce Lexie is struggling with. “Let him eat in peace?”

“I am, Cas. I just want to get to know this new boyfriend of yours.”

At that word, Dean and Cas both blush and look down at their plates - both of them have identical smiles at their lips and Jimmy’s brow furrows. He soldiers on, regardless.

“Where are you from?”

“Uh, Kansas. Lawrence. Small town, not much going on.”

“Why did you leave?” It’s certainly starting to _feel_ like a job interview.

“A few reasons. I travelled about a bit growing up, went back when I was twenty-five. Worked a couple of different jobs, met lots of people. It was fine. For a while.”

Dean is starting to squirm in his seat, wondering how to get around the upcoming questions Jimmy undoubtedly has. He isn’t ready to talk about why he left, and he certainly doesn’t plan on telling Cas while he’s snotty brother is overseeing everything. Think quick, Dean.

“So now what? You've come out here for some unknown reason with pretty much nothing, let Cas take you in, and now what? You’re hiding something, Dean, and I hope that whatever it is won’t cause my brother to regret taking you in.”

“Jimmy! You’re out of line.” Cas sets down his glass and pins his brother with a glare. “I didn’t invite you over for this. I wanted you to get to know each other, not interrogate him!”

“But that’s exactly what I’m trying to do, dear brother. Get to know Dean. I think there are things we both should learn about him, don’t you? Why is now not the perfect time?”

“It just isn’t,” It comes out as a sullen growl, and both twins fix Dean with a surprised look. “Jimmy, can we just drop this, please? Talk about something else?”

“Sure, why not?” Jimmy chews thoughtfully. “So, where do your family think you are? Have you told them tales of your new life yet, of the family you’ve decided to settle in with?”

It’s a deliberate barb, but Dean ignores it. This is a question that he wasn’t expecting, and he’s disarmed by it.

“They, uhm.” Dean stares intently at his fork. It would be so easy to lie, but it doesn't feel like the right thing to do. Cas is looking at him wth a gentle, expectant smile, and he just _can't_ lie to those blue eyes. He's danced around his past for too long, and though he isn't ready to delve into the whole messy fiasco, he knows it's time to at least face a small part of it. “They think I'm dead.”

The reaction is instantaneous: Jimmy’s lips part in shock, Cas’ fork clatters to his plate and, perhaps the most shocking, Lexie stares at Dean with wide, horrified eyes, and bursts into hysterical tears. The noise is like nails on a blackboard to Dean, and he can't help but cringe. Cas is bundling Lexie into his arms and hushing him, sending Dean furtive, distressed looks and that does it. Dean’s cutlery clatters down and he bolts, heading for his bedroom down the hall before he's even really realised what he's doing. The door slams shut behind him and he braces himself on the wall with both hands, trying to calm his breathing. _Fuck_. What the hell just happened?

He doesn't have more than thirty seconds to collect his thoughts before the door opens and Cas walks in. No, wait, it's Jimmy - tears of shock have blurred Dean’s vision. He savagely rubs them away, turning so Jimmy’s glare doesn't feel so piercing.

“Can you give me a minute, please?” His voice shakes more then he intended.

“No.” There’s fury in Jimmy’s eyes, and Dean is suddenly genuinely concerned that the other man might go for him. “You don't get to hide out in here and bury your head in the sand. Cas might pussyfoot around you, but I won't. You hear that?” And Dean does hear it: Lexie is positively howling, and he shudders as he pictured red cheeks and small rivers of tears. Caused by him. “There's a four-year-old kid out there in hysterics, and you need to go and fucking fix it.”

“But… I don't know what…”

“You said the ‘d’ word.” Jimmy seems to soften a bit, taking pity on Dean, although he's still rigid with righteous anger. “Dead. Lexie is terrified of that word. He's worked out on some level that it means people go away and never come back, and seems to think if it's said then it's going to happen to someone he loves. It's irrational of course but hey, try telling him that.”

“I didn't… I had no idea…”

“I know you didn't.” Jimmy sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. “But go out there and fix it. Please. For Cas.”

Dean almost doesn't dare. Going out and facing a crying Lexie and an undoubtedly distraught Cas? When _he_ caused it, albeit unwittingly? Not exactly how he wanted to spend the afternoon, especially when he's trying to quell his own building panic. But Jimmy looks like he's about to drag him out by his hair, so he goes before he's forced. And as soon as he sees Lexie, something inside him changes and he's across the room before he realises his feet are moving, heart in his mouth and feeling like he's about to break out into his own sobs, the boy sounds so distressed.

Cas is curled on the sofa, legs crossed, with Lexie sobbing against his chest. The man’s eyes are dark and sad, and he looks at Dean with such unhappiness that it physically hurts. But Dean ignores it for a second, _has_ to, because he can't stand Lexie’s cries for another second.

“Kiddo? Hey, look at me.” He strokes the dark hair back from Lexie’s hot face, and the boy turns his head to stare up at him with huge, wet eyes. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, I shouldn't have said that word. I promise I'm not going anywhere, OK?”

“Not ever?” Lexie shifts in his father’s lap, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Well, uhm,” He doesn't want to make a promise he can't keep, especially with the eyes of Castiel and Jimmy on him. He changes tactic, reaching out and taking Lexie’s tear-damp hand. He hopes fervently that he isn't about to make a critical error. “That word upsets you, doesn't it?” Behind him, he senses Jimmy balk, and Cas definitely tenses. Lexie nods slowly, his eyes widening and filling with tears again. “I get it. I understand. It means something big and scary, something that we can't control. But… it's just a word, and the word itself can't hurt you. Do you understand that? Do you understand that just because somebody says that little ‘d’ word, that it doesn't mean they're going to go away?”

The little boy nods. Next to Cas, Billie scrambles up onto the sofa with Bunny in his hands and holds it out for his bother to cuddle. Lexie ignores it, focusing instead on Dean. “But… but…”

“But your daddy did.” Cas strokes his son’s hair, looking misty-eyed and sad. “Your daddy went away and didn't come back, and that's what you associate with that word. Him leaving and not coming back again.” Cas isn't really talking to his son now; he's looking past Lexie into the distance, resting his chin on the boy’s head. Dean can't deny that he's a little freaked by that, and he's worried that the twins will pick up on their father’s sadness. He grips Cas’ thigh and squeezes, gently but firm enough to ground him, and it works. Cas shakes himself and kisses Lexie’s head again. “But that isn't going to happen with Dean, all right? He isn't going anywhere. He's staying with us, because he wants to, and because we want him to. Isn't that right?”

“Yes!” Billie cries, smiling at Dean and scrunching his nose up. The boy’s freckles are becoming more pronounced now, thanks to the midsummer sun. Lexie just nods, then leans forward and reaches for Dean. Cas lets him go, and soon the boy is cuddled up to Dean like a koala, burying his face in his neck and sniffling. None of them miss the small, whispered word, “Stay…”

Cas coughs, slings an arm around Billie and buries his face in his son’s hair, hiding his emotion as it spills over. The boy wriggles, twisting to hug his dad back, then reaches over and grabs a book at random.

“Can we read this, daddy? Please?”

“You know what _I_ think?” Jimmy’s voice comes from somewhere behind them and Dean jolts. He had almost forgotten the other man was here. “I think we should finish our lunch, then go to the beach for a walk. Maybe all the way to those rocks in the distance, and you can show Dean what a good climber you are. Doesn't that sound fun?”

“Yes!” Billie positively lights up, grabbing Jimmy’s outstretched hand and following him back to the table, leaving Cas to wipe his eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself. Dean reaches for his hand, and they gaze silently at each other for a moment.

“You all right?” Dean murmurs, conscious of the child in his arms who is clinging on like no tomorrow.

“Yes. I'm fine, Dean. I think we need to… talk. About what you told us. But maybe we can do that on our walk, if Jimmy watches the kids. Will that be all right?”

“Of course.”

He swallows a wave of anxiety, telling himself that it will be OK in the end. Even if he ends up spilling it all to Cas, that maybe Cas will understand and accept him regardless. He doesn't allow himself to venture into alternate ideas, because if he does that then he’ll be lost to fear and panic. Instead, he shifts Lexie in his arms and stands up - not without some considerable effort - and tries to settle the boy back at the table. Lexie, however, is having none of it. He clings to Dean, shaking his head wildly and begs to be allowed to sit with him. Jimmy nods in approval, as Cas stands at the sink and composes himself, and soon they're all back to eating and the kids are chattering excitedly about the beach. Dean cuts Lexie’s chicken up for him, laughing softly as the boy tries to return the favour and fails spectacularly. The gleeful, joyous look on his face as he stares up at Dean from his position kneeling in his lap warms Dean from his heart right to the tips of his toes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice any typos or weird words, please feel free to let me know. I write most of this on the Scrivener app on my phone, and autocorrect sometimes likes to challenge my editing skills. I think I pick most of the mistakes up, but may miss a few!
> 
> Also, if anyone has any good resources, con crit or advice on writing kids, please let me know. I want to get their language and development as accurate as possible :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys decided to get a little bit carried away, so the rating of this has been updated. If explicit sex isn't your bag, feel free to skip the last part of this chapter ;)

The afternoon has turned out beautifully. Cas rolls his jeans up and leaves his shoes at the house, and Jimmy and Dean copy him. The kids are in shorts and t-shirts, also barefoot, and run about gleefully playing a game of tag. It's a bit of a walk to the outcrop of rocks in the distance, but the sand is warm and the air balmy and refreshing, so they take their time and saunter along. Lexie winds up walking with Dean, holding his hand and reaching to hold his uncle’s as well, while Cas walks on ahead, Billie on his shoulders. The silence between him and Jimmy stretches too long, even with the kid swinging between them and kicking shells with his bare toes.

“So. You and Cas have gotten pretty close.” Jimmy eventually speaks, not looking at Dean. His gaze is focused on the wide expanse of ocean, and Dean finds himself staring out at it too.

“Yeah.”

“Even though he knows so little about you.”

“He… he knows me.”

“Does he?” Jimmy turns then, and his expression is critical. “Really? Quite frankly, Dean, I find that hard to believe. How long have you been here now?”

Between them, they support Lexie’s weight and swing him up between them so he laughs and shrieks with glee. Dean counts the days in his head, finding he can't settle on a specific answer.

“A few weeks? Three, four maybe? The first few days are a haze, I was out for most of ‘em.”

Jimmy makes a non-committal noise, clearly lost in thought, so Dean barrels on, nerves and anxiety pushing him to run his mouth.

“Your brother is an angel, you know? I'm sure you do know, but I'm telling you anyway. He's turned my life around in ways I didn't think were possible. When I met Cas, I was… on a pretty dark path. And he saved me, when I didn't know I could be saved. I have so much shit to deal with and he just _accepts it_. He doesn't push, or badger me constantly, he's just _there_. It's like he _knows_ , you know?”

“He does.” Jimmy’s voice is low and soft, and there's a tinge of sadness to it. “He knows what it's like to have a past and to not want to discuss it.”

Dean nods, his mouth suddenly desert-dry. “Cole.”

Jimmy shoots Dean a sharp, calculating look, as though trying to work out how much he knows. “Yes. Cole.”

“He told me,” Dean confesses softly. They swing Lexie again between them, then to Dean’s relief the little boy runs off to join his father and brother up ahead. This conversation will be easier to have without little ears listening in.

“He _told_ you?” Jimmy halts and openly stares at Dean. “How much did he tell you?”

“Well… all of it, I guess?” Dean kicks at a shell with his bare toe. “He told me that Cole… took his own life. Told me that he found him, and that he was holding Lexie when he… yeah. He's told me.”

“I see.” Jimmy looks a little shaken, and stuffs his hands in his pockets as they start to walk again. Dean follows Cas’ footprints in the sand, trying to step in every single one. “You need to know, Dean, what a big deal that is. Cas doesn't talk about Cole to _anyone_.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“No, you don’t. The only people who really know what happened to Cole are me, Cas, Cole’s brother and his parents. And now, apparently, you. Even his friends don’t know that he killed himself; his family didn’t want that part getting out for whatever reason. They know Cole passed away, but they don't know exactly what happened. So, Cas telling you is a big fucking deal.” Jimmy kicks a shell and Dean, a response on the tip of his tongue, stays quiet. It seems like Cas’ brother has more to say. “It really messed him up, you know? None of us had any idea Cole was having problems, he hid it all so well. Cas barely had a chance to deal with how he felt about it all at the time, he had the kids to take care of and the funeral arrangements. I was there as much as possible, but he really withdrew. All that mattered to him was his boys.” Jimmy watches his brother play with his kids, dangling Lexie upside down by his ankles as Billie splashes in the water. “The boys were three months old when Cas and Cole adopted them, and nine months later he was gone. Cas has never been able to come to terms with it, but I think it’s got easier as the years have passed. I don’t think he can understand how Cole could leave them that way; they were the perfect little happy family on the outside. But I guess, you don’t always know what’s going on in someone’s head.”

“Cas must have felt so lost.” Dean’s throat constricts at the mere thought.

“He did. He had me and some close friends, but it was a tough time for him. So, when you’re glaring at me and thinking about what an awful overbearing brother I am, remember that I have a reason to be.”

“I don’t think you’re overbearing.” They’re approaching Cas and the twins now, the rocks only a short distance away. “I can’t imagine what you all went through. I’d be the same, if my little brother had endured an ordeal like that. Cas is lucky to have you.”

“Maybe. I’m lucky to have him too. But Dean,” Jimmy stops, gripping Dean by the forearm and forcing him to turn and look him in the eye. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m sure you’re a great guy and you seem to be making my brother really happy. But if whatever baggage you’ve got going on ends up hurting him…”

“Then it would be very easy to make it look like I drowned in a freak accident, right?” Dean attempts a smile, because he gets it. He really does. But his attempt at a joke hits a bit too close to home; that’s exactly what Sammy, Benny and his friends back home think happened to him already. He swallows, hard. “I’m not going to hurt Cas. I promise. He means the world to me. And yeah, I got some stuff going on, and I’m going to talk to him about it. But just… give me some time, all right? Don’t strap weights to my ankles just yet.”

“Fine. But don’t make me regret it, Dean.” Jimmy sweeps Billie up into his arms and spins him around. “Now, why don’t you two show me how well you can climb those rocks over there, while your daddy and Dean have a chat? OK?”

The boys run off towards a small heap of smooth rocks which look child-friendly enough, although a voice in the back of Dean’s mind worries a little about them climbing too high. He mentally shakes himself. Surely that’s something for _Cas_ to be concerned about, not him. They aren’t his kids.

“Sit with me?” Cas has sat down cross-legged on the sand, a little distance away from where the tide laps up, and Dean takes his outstretched hand and settles at his side. The warmth of the sun is bliss on his skin, and he hesitates for just a second before stripping his t-shirt off to expose his skin to the air. Cas stares for just a second, then follows suit, and the two of them lie down on their backs to soak up some rays. Off to Dean’s left, the boys are giggling and screaming with excitement, and it’s so relaxing that he almost forgets why they’re here. Then Cas props himself up on his elbows and fixes Dean with a look that is probably meant to be very serious, but ends up looking sweetly confused instead.

“Dean. You know I don’t want to push you to open up if you don’t want to. I respect your boundaries, and won’t ever ask you to give more than you can. But…”

“Yeah, Cas, I know.” Dean sighs heavily, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face. “I can’t hide from the past forever. And it isn’t that I _want_ to hide anything from you, far from it. I _want_ to talk to you, it’s just…”

_I’m afraid you’ll hate me for what I’ve done._

As though Cas can read his mind, a warm hand comes out and touches him on the forearm, running down to take his hand. “Whatever it is, Dean, I’m here for you. You’re a good person, I saw that straight away. So whatever happened, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”

_It wasn’t. It was an accident, but what does that change? Nothing._

“Won’t your family be awfully upset though? Is it true, that they think you’re dead?” Cas pushes gently, and Dean caves.

“Yeah. They do.” He sits up, crosses his legs in front of him, and draws an aimless pattern in the sand with a finger. “It was just easier that way, for everyone. After… after it happened, they all looked at me differently. Treated me differently. I’m sure they didn’t mean to, but it happened anyway. It was a time when I really needed people to be there for me, and they tried. But…” Dean traces a star shape, then scribbles it out. “I guess being around me was too difficult. Being seen with me in that small town… I get it. I get why they pulled away.”

Cas is quiet, letting him talk, but he can feel the other man’s gaze on the side of his head like an x-ray.

“I had this car. 1967 Chevy Impala, belonged to my dad before he gave it to me. She was my baby, the love of my life. Sounds silly, huh? An inanimate object being the thing I loved more than anything? But she really was. And one night I was sitting in her at the top of this cliff that dropped off into a river. I’d had a fifth of whiskey already, and was tackling the rest of the bottle while looking out at the stars. I was thinking about how badly I'd fucked everything up, how many lives I'd ruined.” Dean shudders, the memory too vivid and too recent. He doesn’t want to tell Cas the next part, but he’s started now. Perhaps his honesty will be cleansing somehow. “I thought about driving her off the cliff, letting her take me with her. I was so close to doing it, Cas. I felt like I had nothing left to live for, nobody who would miss me after… everything.” Fingers squeeze his tightly, reassuring, grounding. He thinks he hears a sniffle from Cas, but doesn’t dare look at him. “In the end, I left the brake off by mistake and got out of the car to get some air. I turned around, and she was off, towards the edge and I had no chance of getting her back.” His voice catches and he breathes deeply to avoid breaking down. “When she went into the water, it was like I was looking down on the whole thing from somewhere else. I guess you could call it an out of body experience, if you’re into that shit. I was just drunk off my ass and desperate. I could’ve called someone. My friend Benny, my brother, the cops…”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t. I walked back to town, grabbed whatever I could from my place, withdrew every dollar to my name at a 24-hour bank and took off that night. Saw it as a chance to disappear, to try and restart my life without all the… without all the problems. A chance to free my friends and family from what I’d done.” Dean sighs, looking out over the water. “They think I’m gone. That I went to the bottom of the river in that car. I saw the newspaper reports a day later, some claiming it was a freak accident and some suggesting it was intentional. I should’ve called home, should’ve let them know that I was all right. I meant to. But the days passed, and it got harder and harder to make the call. Then I wound up walking out of some train station and up a hill into the woods…”

“And the rest is history.”

Cas’ voice is so soft that Dean can’t help but turn to look at him, and he’s glad he does. Cas is misty-eyed, his expression heartbreakingly sad, but his hand is soothing and firm in Dean’s, and he traces patterns with his thumb. He glances down at where their fingers touch, a lump in his throat. He wants to say more, but something stops him. Fear. Fear stops him. This is enough for today. It has to be.

“What happened, Dean?” It’s a whisper, shy and careful, and Dean’s whole body stiffens. Cas rushes to continue, “You don’t have to tell me. I get it. I promise, I get it. But if you want to…”

“I do. And I will.” He stares deep into the shining blue depths of Cas’ eyes - his _boyfriend’s_ eyes, if Jimmy’s comment at lunch has any weight - and Cas takes the cue and leans forward to kiss him. “Just… give me time? A little longer?” _And promise you won’t turn me away…_

“Of course.” Another sweet kiss, chaste and loving, and Dean wants to cry all of a sudden at the intensity of it. “I love you, Dean. Nothing from your lips can change that.”

They rest their foreheads together for a while, not speaking, just letting the sounds of the ocean and the children playing wash over them until the tide starts to lap at their toes. Cas gestures to the water.

“Fancy a dip? You haven’t been in the ocean yet, right?”

“Uhm, no, I haven’t. I’m not sure… I don’t have my bathing suit…” Dean looks out doubtfully. The water sparkles as the sun sinks lower, glistening and inviting. Next to him, Cas grins and bumps his shoulder with his before getting up, his hands going to the fastenings of his jeans.

“C’mon. Race you.”

“Unfair!” Dean is up and on his feet, but Cas has a headstart, stripping down to his underwear and heading for the water, laughing. Dean joins him a moment later, tackling him around the waist and sending them both headlong into salty water. When they resurface, Jimmy is standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head and grinning, and the kids are running in to join them, fully clothed. Dean takes a breath, dives under the - admittedly very shallow - water, resurfacing beneath Lexie and hauling the kid up onto his shoulders. The twins both shriek with excitement and Cas copies him with Billie, and they splash each other and playfight, the adults gripping the kids ankles to stop them falling in. The conversation with Cas is at the back of Dean’s mind, not gone and not forgotten, but he feels lighter somehow. Like a giant weight has been lifted from around his neck, and that maybe, just maybe, Cas and the twins are the salvation he never knew he could find.

*

Friday night rolls around quickly, and before Dean knows it he's helping Cas set up for the party the following day. It's clear the other man is nervous, unsure of what decorations to put up, what food to serve, and is worrying the boys won't enjoy it. Dean tries his best to calm him, but Cas is a bundle of nerves. The boys go to bed eventually, too excited to sleep, and they can hear them laughing and giggling from their bedroom long after they're supposed to be asleep. Cas smiles, but doesn't go to quiet them. He's too distracted by Dean, stretching him out on the sofa and placing languid kisses across the expanse of his throat.

“Dean… the decorations…”

“Can wait.”

“I need to finish the food…”

“Can also wait.”

“I want…”

“Yes?”

Cas sighs into Dean’s mouth. “You.”

Their sex life during the last few days has been limited to quick touches and stolen moments in the shower or as they fall asleep at night. The kids have taken up most of their time, and they've been tired out most evenings. But tonight feels different - they have time to themselves and, the main thing, Dean is horny and desperate to feel Cas’ bare skin against him.

“All yours, baby. Take what's yours.”

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas shifts beneath him, spreading his legs a little and letting Dean sink into the gap between them. Their erect cocks meet through the fabric of two pairs of jeans, and they both hum in appreciation. Dean kisses Cas deeply, licking into his mouth and savouring the taste of him.

“What do I want?” He kisses Cas’ jaw. “I want,” Kisses his neck. “You,” Kisses the underside of his jaw. “To finger me, nice and slow,” Laps a line down the column of his trust to his collarbone, exposed by the drag of his t-shirt under Dean’s body. “And then, I want you to fuck me. Deep. And hard.”

“God…” Cas arches, moans, lets Dean suck a deep hickey into the hollow of his collarbone. “You sure?”

“I am.” Their lips meet again. “I want you in me, Cas. I want you to come inside me. No condoms.” Another deep, soul-searching kiss. “Fuck me, baby, you know you wanna.”

“You have no idea…” Cas grins wickedly, an idea clearly forming. “Get your clothes off. You're wearing too many.”

Dean strips in record time, while Cas darts down the corridor to make sure the twins are asleep. Then they're back on the sofa again, Cas shimmying out of his jeans - he's going commando, and Dean _moans_ at the sight - and tossing his t-shirt aside before coaxing Dean to lie down on top of him. Their hands are everywhere, stroking and touching each other and lapping needily at each other's mouths. Slowly, Cas’ hands trail down Dean’s sides to his ass; they grip his cheeks and part them, exposing his tight pucker, and Cas rubs a dry thumb over his entrance. Dean _shudders_.

“You sure?” Cas kisses him again and again. “You can top if you wanna.”

“Nuh uh.” Dean shakes his head, his hips already arching in anticipation. “Wanna feel you, baby. Want your come inside me, dripping out down my thighs. Wanna feel that stretch, still wanna feel it tomorrow. Need your cock, and I want you to fill me up.” He nips Cas’ neck, suddenly blushing and hiding his face as he realises how filthy he sounds. Damn, where did all that come from? He's usually the one listening to the dirty talk, not coming out with it.

“God, Dean, you should hear yourself.” Cas grips his hips hard enough to bruise, and rocks against him, their hard, bare cocks lining up and generating delicious friction. Dean is already wet and slick with precome, and by the feel of Cas he is too. They won't last long like this, rutting against each other like horny teenagers. Dean takes control, grabbing for one of Cas’ hands and bringing two fingers to his lips. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he laps at them then takes them slowly into his mouth, sucking on them and getting them as wet as he can. They should probably use lube, but it would mean one of them getting up again and he desperately doesn't want that to happen. Spit will have to do, at least for now; it isn't ideal, and Dean _knows_ he will be feeling the burn for days, but fuck it. He doesn't care. He wants Cas.

Cas is shy and too gentle to start with. It takes a moment or two of Dean arching his back and pushing his ass against Cas’ slick fingers before anything happens. But when it does, it's _so_ worth the wait. Two of Cas’ fingers push in to the first knuckle, wet with Dean’s saliva, and they both groan at the sensation. They kiss slowly, gently, and Dean shivers from the feeling of being stretched open. Cas seems reluctant to push in more, in case he hurts him, so Dean wiggles his hips in encouragement.

“Go on… give me more, baby. I want it.”

Cas’ mouth is on his, licking in deep and exploring, and he gets into a slow rhythm as his confidence builds and he pushes in deeper. Dean loves every second of it: naked and lying spread out on top of Cas, being pleasured by his hand alone, his cock trapped between them and desperate moans spilling quietly from his lips. Cas shifts and his fingers push even deeper - Dean gasps and arches. Cas removes his fingers and, after a moments hesitation, touches them to Dean’s lips again. Dean moans and takes them in, sucking and licking and soaking them with his spit as much as he can. Cas slips a third finger into his mouth and watches with a slightly awed expression as Dean sucks, panting around his hand. He tries to reach between them for Cas’ cock, wanting to make him feel just as good as he does, but his hand is batted away, as the now-soaked fingers return to his clenching, eager hole.

“No. This is all for you. Relax and enjoy.” Cas kisses his nose and twists his hand sharply, eliciting a cry from the man above him. Dean has never felt pleasure this intense, and it ebbs and crests beautifully. He feels weirdly like he could cry, but before he can act on that urge Cas scissors his fingers, stretching him even wider, and fuck that’s good.

It's new and intensely erotic, lying on top of Cas like this, being deeply fingered and enjoying such sensual kisses at the same time. Dean is in freakin’ _heaven_. Cas fingers are thick and twisting just right, sliding in and out in tender thrusts, brushing his prostate every third or fourth time. It's enough to keep Dean in a haze of pleasure, but also keeps him guessing, rocking his hips in arousal and moaning quietly. He shifts, his thighs on the outside of Cas’, but doesn't sit up to straddle him. The feeling of their bare chests together is perfect, and he nuzzles the soft skin of Cas’ throat as hot, thick fingers brush his prostate again, circling and massaging and sending white-hot sparks of pleasure ricocheting through Dean’s veins. His cock throbs, trapped between their stomachs and dropping precome, and he rocks his hips gently to gain friction. The movement forces him back onto Cas’ fingers and he groans as the pleasure builds and builds.

“Fuck yeah, Cas. Gimme another,” Dean pants against the skin of Cas’ neck, groaning low in his throats when a third finger reaches him, stretching him open and sending ecstasy spiralling through him right to his toes.“Oh yeah, fuck, right there. Mmm, yeah.”

Cas fucks him slowly, three fingers sinking impossibly deep, until Dean is writhing on top of him, arching and canting his hips to grind his cock into Cas’ stomach. The tips of those fingers come to rest on his prostate and start rubbing and circling again, this time with the clear intent of pushing him over the edge. Dean shoves himself up onto an elbow to look at Cas, panting, and the sight of the other man’s lust-drunk expression makes him gasp as the pleasure crests. He wants Cas’ cock but damn, this is too intoxicating. He needs to come. He pushes his ass down onto Cas’ hand, mewling and crying out as his balls start to tighten. Fuck, _fuck_ … He drops his forehead to Cas’ collarbone and closes his eyes. He’s _so_ close, _almost_ there…

“Come for me, Dean.” Cas growls up at him, pressing deeper and rubbing deep inside Dean and that does it. He comes, hard, pulsing stream after stream of semen between them with a low cry, his inner muscles spasming around Castiel’s fingers. The pleasure is so intense and so fucking _perfect_ that he can't hold in his desperate moans. Just when he's seeing stars, starting to come down from the high as his muscles unclench and is thinking that Cas is going to stop, the other man twists his hand again. He exerts just a little more pressure on that tender spot inside Dean and, with a shocked shout, he comes again. His cock pulses and throbs deliciously as he spills more come onto their slick stomachs, his vision whiting out as his whole body tightens and jerks against Cas, the incredible stimulation sending every nerve ending haywire. It takes him a second to realise Cas’ free hand is covering his mouth, muffling his helpless cries.

“Cas… Cas… oh, god…”

Cas pulls back, just a little, leaving three fingers inside him as Dean’s rim clenches and quivers around them. He's panting, vision speckled and cloudy as he comes down slowly from a high of unbelievable pleasure. He's _never_ come like that before, _ever_. Cas kisses him deeply, his free hand coming up to cup Dean’s jaw, and they explore each other’s mouths languidly as the fingers inside him start to thrust gently again, sliding in and out at a torturously slow pace, tugging at his tender rim and opening him up. He’s just come twice in very quick succession - and is sort of wondering if it was all one drawn-out orgasm - when his softening dick gives an interested twitch. No _way_ can Cas get him turned on again so quickly, he’s way too old for that… isn’t he?

“Are you OK?” Cas murmurs against his mouth, the tip of one finger finding his prostate and circling so erotically slowly, and Dean’s low cry goes on and on. He’s overstimulated, it’s too much, but he reaches behind him and grips Cas’ wrist, trying to pull his hand even closer.

“More… don’t stop, _fuck_ , Cas, that’s so _good_ …”

“Really?” Cas’ eyebrows almost disappear into his hair. “You wanna come again?”

“I don’t know if I can, but damn. _Ahh_ ,” Dean arches as Cas crooks his fingers curiously. “Don’t you dare stop…”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Cas kisses him, hand behind his neck holding him there as he explores Dean’s mouth with his tongue, and focuses his attention on fingering him again, deep and slow. Dean is drenched in sweat, eyes glazed, and the edges of his consciousness feel fuzzy. He's completely blissed out from coming on Cas’ hand, and with the gentle movements inside him he swears he could reach another orgasm if only Cas would continue. Which seems exactly what the other man intends to do.

“Gonna come again for me, baby?” The words are murmured into the sweat on his neck, fingers massaging his prostate as his hips jerk of their own accord and he whimpers helplessly. His whole body is on fire with pleasure, and he doesn't feel like he could push himself up off Cas if his life depended on it. He's hardening again, his balls aching beautifully, and he's pushing back on the fingers inside him with abandon. “Love seeing you like this, letting go. Giving yourself over to me completely. Love pleasing you, love making you come.” Lips on his, hot and tempting, and Dean closes his eyes, kissing back hungrily. “You like that? Just there?”

There are four fingers in him now, stretching his wet rim, and Dean drops his forehead to Cas’ shoulder and moans, a long drawn out litany of gasps and cries as Cas starts to thrust his fingers again, in and out in a deep rhythm that has both their bodies rocking together on the sofa.

“Please… please…” He isn't even sure what he's begging for. His voice sounds distant, disconnected from him in his haze of pleasure, and a particularly firm thrust to his prostate has him arching and keening, biting down on Cas’ shoulder. “Oh, God…”

“Gonna come?” Cas sounds awestruck. “Gonna come again, baby? Come on my hand, that's it, just on my fingers. Love you, Dean.”

Dean’s whole body goes rigid, fingers digging roughly into Cas’ biceps, and he feels a low-building pleasure start in his belly, deep inside him where Cas has three fingers against that sweet spot, and he comes with a strangled, keening wail. Comes a third time, on his lover’s hand, and it's so intense that his howl dies in his throat and he loses consciousness for a second, his spent cock still dripping come as Cas shifts and withdraws his hand. The last thing he remembers is soft words, and gentle hands petting his hair before he passes out.

*

They manage to stumble to the bedroom, Cas practically holding him up, and despite the other man’s protests that he's fine and doesn't need any attention, Dean pushes him onto his back and gives him a long, slow blow job. He's totally spent, exhausted, but he's sure if he hasn't just had three indescribable orgasms that he could come just from the feeling of Cas hot and heavy on his tongue. He cups the heavy balls in his palm and massages gently, loving the sounds his movements draw from the other man’s lips. He works Cas into an arching, moaning frenzy with his lips and tongue, deep-throating him as the man grips the sheets and tosses his head from side to side, until Cas is close to coming.

When he feels Cas start to tense up, he pulls off and immediately straddles him, enjoying the shocked expression in the lust-blown eyes. Slowly, he guides the head of Cas’ thick cock to his own slack, wet hole, and sinks down until he's in Cas’ lap and their bodies are joined. It's one of his dirtiest secrets: he loves riding cock. Loves the control of making a man come apart beneath him, loves rocking and grinding himself down on a thick shaft until he comes. He knows he won't be able to orgasm again, he's too fucking tired, but this is all about Cas, so he makes it as good for him as he possibly can.

Cas, tired, grips Dean’s hips and just watches him from his position sprawled out on the bed. His legs are slightly parted, forcing Dean’s thighs wide, and as a result the angle is impossibly deep. Cas moans, low and needy, and arches up to meet Dean’s ass as he grinds down.

When Cas comes, his whole body locks up and he keeps his gaze steadily on Dean’s face the whole time. His lips part on a cry, his fingers dig into the muscle above Dean’s hips, and he arches just enough to drive himself impossibly deep. His hard length pulses deliciously, filling him up, and Dean whispers that he loves him too as he watches Cas ride out his pleasure.

Spent and exhausted, they cuddle up together in the afterglow, after Cas has snagged baby wipes to give them a quick clean up, and Dean drifts off to sleep as Cas whispers sweet nothings into his hair.


	10. Chapter 10

“Dean?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I can't do this. Can't we just cancel, and pretend one of us is sick or something?”

“What?”

Dean comes out of the bedroom adjusting the collar of his shirt, to see Cas pacing the living room and looking a nervous wreck. He's got a sparkly banner in one hand and a deflated balloon in the other. Dean realises he hasn’t truly appreciated how much the man hates people in his house until now. But there's only ten minutes to go until Jimmy arrives, which means only half an hour until the guests, and Dean is _not_ going to let Cas’ anxiety get the better of him. He bundles his boyfriend into a hug, kissing the top of his head and letting him cling for just a minute.

“Nope, sorry sweetheart. You can do this; think how much fun the kids are going to have.”

“I know,” Cas’ voice is muffled against his chest. “I just… it's weird for me. Haven't had parties like this for them before. We were going to have a first birthday party but then…” His voice trails off and Dean hugs him tighter. Despite the warm weather outside Cas is in an oversized sweater, no doubt as an attempt to hide himself from the world. Dean plucks at the sleeve.

“You wearing this?”

“Umm,” He stares down at himself as though seeing his clothing for the first time. “I hadn't thought about it.”

“Well,” Dean adopts a soothing tone, stroking Cas’ hair. “Why don't you go change, I'll finish the decorations and wait for Jimmy. By the time you're back, everything will be finished. Sound good?”

Cas nods, looking distracted and unsure of himself, and Dean presses what he hopes is a reassuring kiss to his mouth. Then swats him on the ass.

“Go! I'll sort everything.”

As he pins up a gold ‘Happy Birthday, Billie’ banner, Dean thinks that they probably should have been more responsible the night before, and finished preparations for the party instead of getting lost in each other like horny teenagers. Nah, fuck it. A smile twists his lips as he remembers the feeling of Cas’ fingers inside him; that was a much more pleasurable way to spend the night.

Jimmy arrives in a flurry of curses and irritation, ten minutes late and moaning about the traffic. Dean sets him to work blowing up balloons, and by the time Cas reappears the house is looking brilliant. Dean has never been to a kids’ birthday party before, but he can't deny he's actually looking forward to it.

“Where are my favourite nephews - _oof_! Here they are!” Jimmy tackles Billie onto the sofa, as Lexie leaps on him with a shout of laughter. The boys looks adorable, in matching denim jeans and blue shirts, and they look more alike than usual. Identical blue eyes, identical sweet smiles, and identical mischievous expressions as they take in the decorations and pile of presents with glee. Dean secretly marvels at his own ability to tell them apart.

“Happy birthday, monkeys.” Jimmy kisses them both, then disentangles himself to go in search of a drink. He hands a beer to Dean, and they trade a look of wary acceptance. Dean knows he's still on thin ice with Cas’ twin, and he would be annoyed if it wasn't a sign of how caring Jimmy is.

“You helped with all this?” Jimmy waves his bottle at the banners. He's dressed down today, instead of in his normal shirt and smart pants, and looks less like a tax accountant than usual. More relaxed, more fun. More like Cas.

“Yup.” Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and leans in for a kiss. “While I was having a meltdown, Dean fixed the place up. He's pretty good with his hands.”

Cas winks, and Dean smirks. “So are you, if I remember correctly…”

“Oh, god, you two are disgusting.” Jimmy groans, hiding his face in his hands, and as Cas and Dean fall about laughing the doorbell rings. Cas tenses, breathing deeply and visibly trying to fight his anxiety. 

“Chill, brother.” Jimmy claps him on the shoulder on the way to the door. “It's just a party. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

Later, Dean will remember him saying that. He will look back on that comment and think, ‘Famous last words…’ He doesn't believe in jinxes or tempting fate, but if he did he would shudder and wish fervently that Jimmy had said anything but that. But now, blissfully oblivious to the way the afternoon will play out, he rubs Cas’ shoulders and smiles, greeting the guests warmly and welcoming them to their home as the twins laugh and giggle and play, ecstatic to have their friends come over for once.

Ten kids turn up with their respective parents, and Dean forgets everyone's names right away. Most of the children are the twins’ age, but a few are older and he makes sure they don't get left out of the celebrations. A _lot_ of the guests mistake Dean for the twins’ father, then look surprised when he tells them he's only known them for a month. He supposes, as he kisses Lexie’s dark hair and sets him down on the living room sofa ready to open presents, that it's the easy comfort between him and the kids that makes them seem close already. He keeps having to correct his own thoughts, keeps having to remind himself that the boys are _Cas’_ kids, not both their kids. Although when he does, his smile is only half guilty - he loves the twins to death. And feels like they're starting to love him back, as undeserving of that love as he may be

He stands back, watches as they open a small selection of gifts each with glittery, excited eyes, and their friends mill happily around them, playing with the new toys and taking snacks and sweet treats from their parents. Cas is fussing over everyone like a mother hen, and it warms Dean’s heart to watch him.

“OK kiddos, I think that's it for presents. You've both been so lucky!” Jimmy scoops up the last of the wrapping as the boys, enamoured with their new toys and treats, stare at each other with starry eyes. It's touching how they both turn to each other for everything, even when surrounded by gifts, sweets, and other children. Dean wonders if Cas and Jimmy were the same as kids.

“Actually, um…” He pipes up, as loudly as he dares. He doesn't want to make a big deal out of this, and in hindsight he probably should have just given the kids their presents later, after the party. But everyone is staring at him expectantly now, so he shrugs self-consciously and produces two badly-wrapped parcels from behind his back. He couldn't find any wrapping paper in the house so brown packing paper had to do; he could have asked Cas, but he wanted the gifts to be as much a surprise for the other man as for the kids. His choice turns out to be a good one; Cas is standing behind his boys looking a little misty-eyed.

“I have something for each of them. It's not much,” he rushes to add, when Cas looks like he's about to protest. “Just things I thought they would like.”

He hands a parcel to each of the twins, making sure they get the correct one, and everyone watches as they unwrap two stuffed toys: a bunny and an elephant, both in a soft grey with amber eyes, and it's obvious immediately how the boys fall instantly in love with them. They both yelp with happiness and clutch the toys to their chests, then swap to examine each other's, trading back again a moment later. Lexie turns in his chair to show his father, pulling his matching Bunny from somewhere at his side.

“Look, daddy! Bunny brothers! Like me and Billie!”

“Yes, just like you and Billie.” Cas ruffles his hair, then wanders over to talk to Dean, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Thank you. You didn't have to get them anything.”

“Course I did.” Dean can't help but grin as he watches the kids play. He slings his arm over Cas’ shoulders and kisses his temple. “I didn't have many presents growing up, so I want to spoil these two. If that's all right.”

“Of course. It's more than all right.” Cas leans up to peck him on the cheek, then the lips. “As long as I'm allowed to spoil you in return.”

“Deal.”

“When did you even get these? I don't remember you going to town?”

“Ah, your brother doesn't dislike me as much as he pretends to. He helped.” Dean smiles, and carefully omits the fact that he considered asking Cas for the car, but the thought of getting behind the wheel freaked him out too much. Jimmy had been his last hope, and has grudgingly agreed to go searching the bookshop for the toys he wanted for the children.

They share a kiss, then Cas is pulled away by Billie towards the table where a pretty impressive ice cream cake stands proudly, surrounded by cupcakes and flapjacks - Jimmy’s ‘healthy’ contribution to the sugar overload. Lexie takes Dean’s hand, then changes his mind and reaches up for a hug. As soon as he's up on Dean’s hip, he throws his arms around his neck - a stuffed rabbit in each hand - and whispers a quiet ‘thank you, Dee’ into Dean’s ear.

Down at the beach, the kids play in the sand while the adults share food and drink, and chat amongst themselves. Dean bonds quickly with a curvaceous young woman named Meg, who seems to be Cas’ closest friend in the town. She runs one of the cafes along with her best friend Gabriel, and always sneaks the boys an extra slice of organic, gluten-free carrot cake whenever they come in. Dean asks if she has anything in excess of five hundred calories a slice - she grins, tells him they will make good friends, and that her Devil’s Food Cake is to die for. Gabriel flirts shamelessly with Dean, somehow managing to simultaneously compliment his and Cas’ relationship, saying he hasn't seen Cas this happy the entire time they've been friends, and that warms Dean’s heart. He watches Cas chat with the other parents and smile at witty jokes, and gets stuck just staring at him, thinking just how in love he is, until Meg pokes him in the ribs and hands him a beer.

“Get that down your neck, Heart Eyes. You can relax, you know? Cas has everything under control, as always.”

“I know.” Dean takes the beer and sips it gratefully. It's cold and refreshing, and he presses the perspiring bottle to his cheek in an attempt to cool down. “I just want to help him.”

“You are.” Meg smiles at him, and he doesn't miss the double meaning in her words.

The afternoon continues, and Dean never realised he could have so much fun at a birthday party for a pair of five-year-olds. But he does. He laughs so hard his cheeks hurt, and the pleasant ache of love in his chest only blossoms as he watches the twins play together with their friends on the beach.

*

He’s up at the house when it happens.

He'd collected a handful of beakers and water bottles from the kids and has gone back up the the kitchen to refill them, absent-minded, enjoying the feeling of the sand beneath his toes, and not paying much attention to the kids back down on the beach. He glances down out of the window as he runs the tap, filling one bottle after another, and watches as Cas chats to one of the mothers - Alex, he thinks her name is. Jimmy is busy building sand castles with some of the girls, and Dean’s eyes scan the group of kids in search of the twins. Sure enough, Billie is playing with his toy elephant, no doubt getting it covered in sand, and looks happy as a pig in muck. Lexie, where's Lexie?

Dean frowns, a knot of worry starting to form in his stomach. Then, with a lurch of horror, he sees the boy down at the water, knee-deep and bending down no doubt to pick up shells, completely unnoticed by the adults in the group a short distance away. The tide is strong today, the waves choppy and lively, and it isn't safe for a five-year-old to be paddling so deep. He bangs hard on the window, calling Cas’ name, but the house is too far up the dune. Nobody hears him. He does it again, almost hard enough to break the glass, screaming so loud for Cas that his voice breaks, as Lexie steps further into the water.

Dean’s heart stops in his chest.

It happens in slow motion. A wave larger than all the rest crests and breaks, sweeping the little boy off his feet and sending him tumbling into the water. Dean is frozen for a moment, his heart racing, screaming in his ears. Lexie can swim, but barely. He can swim in shallow, gentle water, and even then it's barely a few strokes before he stops, frightened at not being able to touch the bottom. He waits for a breath, barely the length of two heartbeats, but Lexie’s dark head doesn't resurface. Dean drops the bottle in his hands and breaks into a run, panic and adrenaline giving him speed he never knew he possessed. Across the living room, out onto the decking, across the rough grass and down the dune to the beach… Cas looks up when he sees him, and the expression on his face must say it all: Cas’ warm smile dies on his lips, replaced by fear.

Dean doesn't hesitate or wait for Cas or his brother. He dives headfirst into the water, panic choking him as he realises it’s deeper than he originally thought, and that Lexie had gone further out than he had realised. After only a few metres, his feet don't touch the bottom any more. A low howl of distress from the beach reaches his ears when he breaks the surface, but he doesn't turn around. The waves are buffeting him from all sides, a strong undercurrent threatening to drag him away out to sea, and it's only dumb luck that he sees wet dark hair in the water, only a few feet from him. Salt water stings his eyes and throat as he grabs Lexie, turns him over onto his back and pulls him to his chest; the ashen pallor of the little boy’s skin and the way his dark lashes lie closed on white cheeks making him want to burst out screaming. He makes it back to the shore in a blur, heart pounding and nausea sweeping through him. It can't be too late, it _can't_ …

Hands grab his shirt, pulling him out of the water and up onto the sand; those same hands try to take Lexie from him but he shoves the person away and lies the tiny, limp body out on the sand, searching desperately for a pulse. Jimmy’s voice sounds close by, strained and panic-stricken, and someone else is shouting for help.

“ _Lexie_!” Cas is howling, grief lacing his cries, and is somewhere a few feet away being held back by Meg and Gabriel, as Dean shifts to kneel next to the boy and starts CPR. No pulse. No movement. No slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. No, no, no, _no_ …

Dean swears he feels bones crunch under his hands as he does chest compressions. Jimmy is kneeling opposite him, white-faced, ready to take over if Dean tires, but there's no way he can stop. Thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths… nothing. _Come on, Lexie, come on. Billie needs you, your daddy needs you, we all need you_. The boy’s lips are a horrifying shade of blue.

“Ambulance is five minutes out.” Someone’s shaky voice sounds close by, and Jimmy nods to them. His eyes meet Dean’s across the boy’s prone body, and the man looks terrified. Cas’ screams are tearing through the air, and the sounds of him scuffling, fighting against the people holding him, come from behind Dean.

“He's my baby, he's _my_ _baby_ , please, _please_!” His panicked cries are like broken glass, cutting into Dean’s eardrums, and he forces himself to tune Cas out so he can focus on what he's doing.

Thirty compressions, two breaths. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Time seems to be standing still, and all Dean can do is repeat the motions steadily, praying to every god he can think of to let the boy live. Prays he wasn't too late. Prays another child won't die in his arms...

Then, somehow, beneath his hands Lexie arches, his small body jerking and Jimmy is quick to turn him on his side and pounds on his back as he coughs up lungfuls of salty water. Dean holds the boy’s shoulders as he retches, spewing water and bile all over the sand, his small hands clenching into fists, and Dean grips one of them tightly, tears of relief streaming unchecked down his cheeks. Between he and Jimmy, they keep him still as he continues to cough and retch then, when they're sure he's got it all up and is breathing properly, Dean hauls him gently into a sitting position and wraps his arms around the boy tightly, burying his face in his neck. Weak and shaken, Lexie starts to cry and grips Dean like his life depends on it, sobbing, “Daddy, daddy,” into his chest. Towels are bundled onto them from all directions, and Jimmy strips the boy of his wet clothes quickly, wrapping him up as Dean rocks him and whispers words of comport to him.

“ _Lexie_!” Cas crashes to his knees beside them, pulling his son out of Dean’s arms and into his own, unable to hold back tears; Dean cradles them both to him like he never wants to let go, Cas’ keening sobs mixing with the wail of a siren as the ambulance finally arrives.


	11. Chapter 11

“Here. You deserve it.”

A warm styrofoam cup is pressed into Dean’s cold hands, and he looks up to see Jimmy standing in front of him, white-faced and drawn. His eyes are dark with worry, and his hands shake just a little as Dean takes the coffee from him. The hospital is busy for a Saturday afternoon, but Lexie had been a priority and had been seen immediately upon arrival. The whole place smells of antiseptic and stress.

“Thanks. Any news?”

“Yes.” Jimmy’s hand comes down on Dean’s shoulder and is face is sagging with relief. “Doctors say he’ll be all right. They want to keep him in for a day or two and monitor him, something about risks of pneumonia from inhaling all that water, but it's a pretty low risk apparently.” Jimmy sits down next to Dean in the plastic chair, their legs almost touching. “You saved his life.”

“Fuck. Thank fuck he's all right. I just… anyone else would have…”

“Don't. Don't bullshit, Dean. You saw what happened, you dived in and got him out, and you saved him. You saved my nephew’s life,” Jimmy’s voice breaks on a sob and he covers his face with his hands. “None of us… we didn't… He would be dead if it weren't for you.”

“Well, he's not.” Dean’s own voice is rough and husky from crying; he doesn't want to think about what could have happened. His tears dried a long time ago, to be replaced with a numbness he assumes is shock. He's freezing, and Jimmy belatedly notices he's shivering and shrugs his jacket off.

“Here. Don't argue. You're shaking.”

“So are you.” Dean accepts the jacket without a battle, pulling it on and immediately feeling better as the warmth from Jimmy’s body seeps into his own. The nurses had helped him strip off his wet clothes and given him scrubs to wear, but he'd been so distracted by trying to follow Cas and Jimmy that he hadn't listened to a word they had told him about shock and taking it easy. He didn't care about himself, he just needed Cas and the twins to be OK.

“How's Billie?”

“All right. Shaken up, but we all are. Won't let go of his daddy, and won't leave Lexie’s side.”

“I don’t blame him.” Dean sips the coffee, grateful that Jimmy thought to put sugar in it. He needs the energy right now, he's damn close to crashing completely. The adrenaline from the last few hours ebbed out of him as they reached the hospital, and he had collapsed in a semi-faint before they got out of the ambulance. He had caught a glimpse of Cas’ stricken face as he turned, Billie in his arms, and tried to tell the other man to go in with his kids, that he was fine and just needed a minute. He needed longer than a minute, it turned out, and woke up on a gurney of his own with Jimmy’s frightened face looming over him. Now, they were waiting outside a hospital room where a doctor was doing final checks on Lexie, and Dean was jittery with the need to get in there and see for himself that the kid was all right.

As if on cue, the door opens and a woman with bright red hair in bouncing curls and a bright smile appears, gesturing to them to come over.

“He's going to be right as rain in a few days. I'm Dr Bradbury, the paediatrician, but please call me Charlie. I want you to know that Lexie is in very safe hands here, and that we’re happy he will make a full recovery.” She puts a hand on Dean’s arm, and he stares down at it mutely. “What you did was very brave. You saved his life.”

“Yeah, all right, can I see him now?” Uncomfortable with the scrutiny and praise, it comes out harsher than intended, but Charlie doesn't seem to mind. Dean thinks she's probably used to dealing with stressed-out parents. _Not_ that he's Lexie’s parent or anything…

“Of course. I'll give you guys some time.”

As she walks off, Dean finds himself pinned to the spot, unable to walk through the door. He's terrified, fear flooding his body as quickly as the adrenaline had at the beach. What will Cas say? Is Lexie _actually_ all right? Did he do the right things, was he quick enough, should he have let Cas do the CPR…?

“C’mon.” Jimmy nudges him, a gentle hand on his lower back. “They’re desperate to see you.”

Dean gets barely two steps into the room before he's hit with an armful of gasping Cas, wrapping arms tightly around his neck and rambling jumbled words of love and thanks and tearful apologies. He wraps his arms around Cas’ waist, hugging him tightly and kissing his tears away until he stops shaking quite as badly.

“Dean! Look! I drawed a picture of us!”

Lexie’s voice, smaller and softer than usual, floats across from the bed, and Dean extricates himself from Cas’ arms so he can go over to the kid. The first sight of the boy brings a lump to his throat, and he has to bite back tears. Lexie looks so tiny in the huge white hospital bed, sitting up with the covers pulled up to his waist, an IV line in the back of one tiny hand and a tube disappearing into his nose. He still looks ashen, and his hair - now dry - is sticking up at odd angles, and he just looks so fragile. It almost makes Dean want to turn and run from the room, but he swallows his dismay and approaches the bed. Billie is cuddled up next to him, scribbling on a notepad with brightly-coloured crayons. Lexie holds a sheet of paper out towards him, white-faced but smiling, and Dean takes it to have a look.

It's five stick figures, two much smaller than the other three. It's quite clear that it's intended to be a picture of the five of them: Lexie, Billie, Jimmy, Cas and Dean.

“That's you,” Lexie leans over to point. “And that's daddy.” The two stick-figures he points to are holding hands, and it brings a fresh wave of tears to Dean’s eyes. “And Uncle Jimmy.”

“Our family!” Billie proclaims proudly, smiling up at Dean. Cas’ hand on his back is warm and familiar, and as a couple of tears fall and smudge the Sharpie on the paper, Dean thinks it's the best drawing he's ever seen.

*

The boys are asleep, curled together on the bed with Cas pressed up against Lexie’s back, stroking his hair, lost in thought. Jimmy has vanished to go and call worried friends and family, to update them with the news that Lexie should recover well and will be out of hospital in a day or two. Dean sits, fidgeting, in a chair under the window, unable to settle.

Ugly thoughts keep running through his troubled mind. Images of Lexie facedown in the water, of him on his back on the sand with his little face white and waxy, unresponsive and looking past the point of rescue. His hand cold in Dean’s. Cas’ traumatised howls. The screams and cries of the other children around them as they climbed into the ambulance, Jimmy shouting to them that he will meet them at the hospital. Lexie’s wide, frightened eyes shining with tears, his little face mostly obscured by an oxygen mask. The feel of his ribs cracking under Dean’s hands…

“Hey.” Cas murmurs to him from across the room, and when Dean drags himself back to the present he sees the other man frowning at him in consternation. “Don't.”

“Don't what?” Dean shifts in his chair, realising his extremities have gone numb from being curled up for so long.

“Don't think about it. I can see you going over and over it in your head. Don't torture yourself.” Cas heaves a deep sigh. “That's for me to do.”

“No.” Dean shakes his head vehemently, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed. He lifts Cas’ bare feet into his lap, rubbing his skin absently. He knew this would be coming. “Don't you dare. What happened to Lexie wasn't your fault.”

“It was.” It’s said with such a no-nonsense tone that Cas could have been discussing the fucking weather, and Dean glares. “I should have been watching him. I should have been looking out for him, making sure he was safe. He's _my_ responsibility, and I failed him. If you hadn't been there…” It seems to be taking all the strength Cas has not to break down. Tears glisten in silvery tracks down his cheeks and he wipes at them briskly. “If he had drowned…”

“He _didn't_ drown.” Dean’s grip tightens and Cas flinches. “We saved him. It was a freak accident, Cas. I know how good you are with your boys, how much you cherish them and keep them safe. What happened today was nobody’s fault.”

“I wasn't watching him.” Cas wipes his cheeks again with shaky fingers. “I should have been. I should-”

“Shoulds and ifs and buts are useless, Cas.” It comes out more savagely than Dean means it to. “Lexie is safe, he's going to be fine. Don't tear yourself apart over this. It was an _accident_.”

_That's good advice, Dean. Perhaps you should consider taking it yourself…_

“It was pure dumb luck that I saw Lexie from the house. You were down there with him, only a few feet away, it wasn't like he was left to roam the beach alone.”

“And it _still_ happened!” Cas gasps, then claps a hand to his mouth as Billie stirs in his sleep. “What if you hadn't been there? If you hadn't _seen_?”

“But I _did_!” Dean wants to shake Cas, desperate to wipe the expression of haunted horror from his face, desperate for him to realise that it wasn't his fault. It was an _accident_. “He's safe, Cas, and he's going to be fine. Not a scratch on him. He even had the energy to do this,” Dean pulls the picture out from his pocket where it's carefully folded into quarters. “Look. You, me, Jimmy, and the boys. Right where everyone belongs. He's all right. Everything is all right.”

Cas nods mutely, tracing the stick figure of himself, then the one of Dean. He seems to come to some realisation, and parrots Dean’s words back to him in a strange, melancholy whisper, “Right where we belong…”

“You guys all right?”

Jimmy sticks his head in, a cardboard box clutched in one hand and a carrier bag in the other. He holds both up with a gentle smile. “Thought you might want something to eat.”

They have a small, quiet picnic on the end of Lexie’s huge bed; Jimmy has brought pastries and sandwiches from the bakery down the road along with cans of Coke and Sprite. Cas turns his nose up at them, but then humbly takes one as Jimmy mutters about blood sugar and shock, pinning his brother with a penetrating look. Dean is halfway through his second chocolate eclair when Cas stops eating and drinking altogether, puts down the items in his hands and just stares at Dean.

“You're a hero. I hope you know that.” He leans over and places a sticky-sweet kiss to Dean’s parted lips. “This family needs you, Dean. Don't ever leave.”

Then he goes back to eating as though nothing has happened, slightly teary-eyed and constantly sneaking glances at his kids. Jimmy watches all of them with a sombre, loving expression on his handsome face, and Dean has to call upon every ounce of energy he has to stop himself from bursting into tears.

*

After a long, long discussion, it's decided that Cas will stay at the hospital with Lexie while Jimmy and Dean take Billie home and put him to bed. Billie, of course, is far from keen on the idea and descends into hysterical wails when he's told he needs to leave his brother for a few hours. Cas looks at the end of his tether with the whole thing, Jimmy’s last nerve is being tested, and to all their surprise it's Lexie who leans forward and hugs his twin, telling him to go have fun with Uncle Jimmy and Dean, and that they can draw pictures together in the morning. What he actually says is ‘Uncle Jimmy and daddy’, but none of them can bear to correct him because they've all been through too much already and it isn't a conversation any of the adults can stand to have.

Jimmy scoops Billie into his arms and kisses Lexie on the forehead, telling him to be good - “Of course I will! I'm always good!” - and vanishes to order a cab. Dean, nervous of being alone with Cas’ kid and brother without him as a buffer, loiters. Cas’ hands come to rest on his tense shoulders, massaging gently and working at the knots forming there. He feels warm lips brush the nape of his neck, then Cas’ hands slide down his arms and come to wrap around his waist from behind.

“I love you, Dean.” His voice is choked with emotion. “Thank you. It doesn't feel like enough; how can I ever repay you for what you did?”

Dean turns in Cas’ arms and silences him with his lips. “You don't need to thank me. I'm just glad he's going to be all right. I'm so fucking glad, Cas.” He rests their foreheads together, their gazes locked and searching for something, blue on green. Then Cas kisses him, teary-eyed and weak with relief, and Dean gathers up the bags with their wet clothes in and bids them goodbye, telling Cas he will text him updates throughout the night.

“Will you be all right with him?” The dark eyebrows are creased with worry.

“Of course. Jimmy will be there too,” He kisses Lexie on the forehead. “Sleep tight, little man. We’ll be back in the morning for you.”

“Kay.” Lexie’s eyes are closing, and Dean pulls the sheets up to his chest, settling him and stroking his forehead. “G’night, daddy.”

“Night, little man.” Dean blinks rapidly, his vision suddenly blurry. “Love ya.”

“Love you…” The blue eyes close, and Lexie falls asleep. Cas has a hand covering his mouth, and is watching them with misty eyes. He looks wrecked, utterly exhausted, and Dean waits until he's curled up on the bed with his son before turning off the lights in the hospital room and leaving them to sleep. He hopes it's a peaceful night.

It's dark by the time they get to the house, and Billie has fallen asleep. Jimmy gathers the bag with Dean and Lexie’s clothes in silently, deliberately avoiding looking down at the beach, while Dean unclips the seat belt and gathers the boy up into his arms. Small hands clasp his neck, and warm breaths puff out against his skin as Billie settles against him; Jimmy pays the driver and they walk together into the house.

The place is dark and quiet, with no evidence at all of their ordeal that afternoon apart from a water bottle on the floor by the sink. Jimmy picks it up without saying anything, dropping it in the trash, and turns to Dean.

“Want me to put him to bed?”

“No, it's OK.” Billie snuggles closer and Dean kisses his dark head. “I got it.”

It takes a while to get the boy changed for bed, into pyjamas with feet and a pattern of cats on, and Billie isn't much help. He's a dead weight, exhausted, and Dean has to fight to get his arms and legs to go where they should, accidentally putting his PJ bottoms on back to front the first time. It takes a very short time for Billie to fall asleep, lulled into dreamland by the night light by his bed and a cassette tape of low, classical music that he knows Cas plays when the twins won't settle. He closes the door quietly behind him, and pads into the living room where Jimmy is sitting with a beer, staring out at the ocean in silent contemplation. Dean joins him, sitting on the squashy sofa opposite him and wrapping himself up in one of Cas’ thick knitted blankets. The smell of Cas and the boys clings to it, and Dean inhales deeply, trying to find some comfort.

He digs in his pocket for his phone, then remembers he didn't have it on him when he dived into the water. It's somewhere in the kitchen, and he groans but gets up to find it. He sends Cas a message, reassuring him that Billie is settled and asleep, and gets a two-word reply which brings a tired smile to his lips: **Love you**.

He tries to settle down, tries to relax, but it seems impossible. Flashes of what could have been keep sparking behind his eyes, and he cringes in reaction every time. Jimmy notices, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Dean. Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't torture yourself. He's all right.”

Damn, has Jimmy got the same mind-reading skills as his twin? He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “I know. But I can't help it. I keep seeing him lying there…”

“I know.” Jimmy takes a deep swallow from his bottle. “I do too. You're a hero, Dean. He would be… gone, if it weren't for you.”

Dean says nothing. He stares at his hands, and waits for the normal response of ‘it was nothing/I'm far from a hero/anyone would have done the same/I didn't do anything special’, but it doesn't come. It doesn't come because he knows deep down that if he hadn't seen Lexie when he did, that the little boy would have drowned in the ocean mere feet away from his family. And that thought chills him to the bone.

“Jimmy,” His own voice is quiet, broken. “When I saw him go under… when he was lying on the beach that way… it almost fucking broke me, man. I thought he was going to die beneath my hands. How could I have lived with myself if that had happened? How could I ever look at Cas again?” He trails off, a mixture of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. They had come so close, _too_ close, to losing Lexie. If those blue eyes had never opened again, Dean knows he wouldn't be able to live with the grief.

An image of green eyes swirls, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind. Jade green, glassy eyes framed by dark lashes, underscored by pale skin and streaks of blood. Wide open, but unseeing. His own cry of pain echoing in the background, mixing in with the high-pitched wail of a young woman…

“Dean.” Jimmy’s hand is firm on his forearm. “Hey. Dean.”

“What?” Everything seems very far away all of a sudden.

“Stay with me, man. Don't think about it all. It’ll consume you.”

_You have no idea…_

“Daddy?”

A very small voice comes from the corridor leading to the bedrooms, and Dean is on his feet in seconds, snapped instantly back to the present. Billie is standing there staring at them, a trembling thumb in his mouth and his stuffed elephant trailing on the ground, eyes large and tear-filled. He looks from Dean to Jimmy and, realising neither of them is his father, sits down in the middle of the floor and starts to cry. His tears aren't loud, attention-seeking sobs. They're quiet and heart-wrenchingly unhappy, and the boy radiates fear and loneliness. It occurs to Dean that this is probably the first night Billie has ever spent without his twin, so to have his father absent as well is a double-whammy.

Jimmy starts towards the boy in alarm, but Dean gets there first, kneeling in front of him and drawing him close to his chest. Billie goes willingly, burying his face in the fabric of his t-shirt and continuing to sob, fat tears running down his cheeks to soak his pyjama top.

“Where's my daddy? Where's Lexie? I want daddy.”

And it's too sad, way too sad. Dean gathers him up in his arms and carries him down the corridor. He doesn't go into the twins’ room: instead, he heads for Cas’, and climbs onto the bed to lie down on his side, Billie held tight to him. It's a gamble, but his instincts turn out to be correct. The warm familiarity of Cas’ sheets, combined with the smell of his apple cinnamon body wash seems to comfort his son somewhat, and Billie wipes his eyes, hiccuping, and clings a little tighter to Dean. In the doorway, Jimmy stands and watches in silence.

“Your daddy is with Lexie at the hospital, remember?” Dean brushes the boy’s hair back and kisses his forehead. “You're going to sleep here tonight with me and Uncle Jimmy, then in the morning we can go back and see them. OK?”

Billie nods tearfully, hiccuping again. “How long?”

“How long until we go back? A few hours yet, little man. So what you need to do is try to get some sleep, for me and Uncle Jimmy. Can you try and do that?” Dean kisses his forehead again as the boy nods sadly. “Good. I knew you could do it. Then when you wake up, it will be morning and it will be time to go see them. OK?”

“Yes.” Billie settles against the pillows on his side, thumb firmly in his mouth and his elephant clutched to his chest. Dean leaves him for just a moment, to go to the door and talk to Jimmy.

“You wanna stay here with him tonight? I can crash in the spare room.”

“No.” There isn't an ounce of hesitation in Jimmy’s voice. “You stay here. I think he wants you. Just shout if you need anything. Cas trusts you with the boys, so I do too. Especially after today. Just try and get some sleep yourself, all right?” He looks dog-tired, like he's about to collapse, so Dean just nods and watches as he walks away towards the bathroom.

He gets the feeling they may be in for a long night.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein lies Destiel fluff, for those of you who (like me) might need a giant hug and/or a bloody strong drink. 
> 
> The next chapter may be a few days coming because it's kind of a pivotal one...

The night isn't as bad as Dean feared.   
Well, okay, it's pretty damn difficult. But he won't be telling Cas that.

For starters, Dean’s own sleep is plagued with nightmares. A toxic mixture of glassy green eyes combined with white skin, wet dark hair and the taste of salt water in his mouth. Cas howling on one side of him, and a woman screaming on the other. The sound of waves rushing in his ears, the sight of blood smeared on the sidewalk. The feeling of his own heart stopping in horror, over and over again.

He hasn't realised until now that being cuddled up to Cas’ side, having warm arms wrapped around him and lips pressing to the nape of his neck, is what's kept his nightmares at bay. Now, when he's alone without the safety of Castiel and his loving embrace, a mere few hours after Lexie almost lost his life to the ocean, is when he feels more vulnerable and alone than he has in weeks. It's almost unbearable, and he didn't think he would be able to sleep but exhaustion wraps around him and drags him under.

He wakes up a couple of times to his own whimpers and whines, and other times to Billie tossing and turning, crying quietly and calling for his father. The second time, Dean hightails it into the twins’ bedroom in search of the stuffed rabbit Lexie loves so much, then to the living room for the new bunny he bought the boy for his birthday, and when he takes them back to bed Billie quiets with a watery smile and a sniffle, cuddling them tightly along with his elephant and reaching for Dean. He learns quickly that Billie likes to sleep on top of him, on his chest with his face buried in his neck, toys clutched between them. It isn't comfortable, and when asleep the kid is a dead weight, but Dean doesn't have the heart to shift him. He sends awkward, one-handed text messages to Cas, letting him know that they're doing fine, and the replies are short and exhausted-sounding.

The third time, he's woken up by something akin to a howl, and he's clutching at Billie and sitting up with him before he's even fully awake. The boy is positively screaming for his father, clinging to Dean and his toys and sobbing, huge fat tears which soak into Dean’s t-shirt and the sheets, and no amount of rocking him or talking to him seems to help. Dean is about to lose it completely, panicked, when the door opens and Jimmy pads in, dressed in some of Cas’ pyjama bottoms, shirtless, and looking rumpled and tired. He holds out his arms in a silent offer to Dean - ‘let me try?’ - but even cuddles from his uncle don't calm the boy much. Jimmy sits on the edge of the bed and sighs, wiping Billie’s red cheeks.

“Come on, kiddo, you'll make yourself sick.” He glances at Dean, appearing to be considering something. “Lie back. Dean, you, lie back.”

Confused and exhausted, Dean does as he's asked, and takes the boy from Jimmy, lying him down next to him, held tight in the C-shape his body makes lying on his side. To his shock, Jimmy pulls the sheets back and climbs in too, lying facing the pair of them and stroking the small dark head as Billie continues to cry. Awkwardly, not meeting Dean’s eyes, he shuffles forward until their knees bump and they're forming almost a circle around the child.

"As a baby he slept terribly,” Jimmy explains, mumbling into Billie’s hair; Dean can barely hear him over the low wails. “Cas and Cole would co-sleep with him, just like this, and it worked. Most of the time. Of course, Lexie was normally here too, but this is the best we can do, so…”

“I want daddy!” Billie cries, then coughs so hard that Dean sits him up and pats him on the back.

The boy’s cheeks are bright red, his eyes puffy and sore, and he coughs so hard he retches. Then, miraculously, he lies back down and quietens to sniffles and sighs, interspersed with the odd sob and whimper. Dean strokes his hair and kisses his cheek, and Billie coughs and rubs his eyes, but for the most part has stopped the heartbreaking cries. Dean barely dares to breathe, not wanting to disturb the kid further, but it seems like Jimmy’s idea has worked. Billie pulls his elephant up onto his chest, playing with its floppy ears and sniffling quietly to himself, murmuring words like ‘daddy’ and ‘birthday’, and Dean feels a painful constriction in his chest at the realisation of just how awful the twins’ fifth birthday has been.

“Seems to be working, huh?” Jimmy is stroking Billie’s hair, looking half asleep himself, snuggled into the pillow on what is normally Dean’s side of the bed. There's at least another four hours before they can get up and head back to the hospital, so it makes sense to try and sleep a bit more.

Soon, Jimmy’s soft snores reach his ears, and Billie appears to have dropped off too. Dean is the only one lying wide awake, barely able to shut his eyes let alone fall asleep. He looks over Jimmy’s bare shoulder, out of the open window and across the dunes, illuminated in the pale moonlight as the sky lightens and the sunrise approaches, and suddenly misses Cas so much it physically hurts. He fumbles for his phone and checks his texts.

**You OK? Billie still asleep?**

_Yes. Been an angel all night. Out like a light._ Dean lies, his fingers moving awkwardly over the keypad, one-handed since his other arm is wrapped around a sleeping five-year-old. He pauses, doesn't want to lay too much on an exhausted and undoubtedly emotional Cas. But his fingers tap out the next two words on their own. _Missing you._

 **Oh Dean. I wish more than anything that I was there with you.** It's evident Cas is riding a wave of sadness; Dean can practically feel it in every word. **I didn't think spending one night apart would be so hard.**

 _Me neither._ Dean shifts just a little; Billie stirs, curls into Jimmy a bit more and releasing Dean’s pins-and-needles strewn arm. _We might be in your bed… Your sheets smell nice._

 **Our bed.** There's a pause, into which Dean blushes and grins. Then: **We as in, you and Billie? He wouldn't settle in his own room?**

Shit. He didn't mean to let that slip. Dean texts back at lightning speed.

_He was fine, just a bit fussy earlier. Thought it was for the best. Hope you don't mind._

**Of course not. You're always so thoughtful. And I can't wait until I have you in my bed, all to myself.**

Dean grins, flushing even more at the innuendo in Cas’ words. He can't wait either. Although he feels like it might be a while before they get any proper alone time and, if he's honest, he doesn't want to let the twins out of his sight ever again. He can only imagine how Cas feels.

**Can I tell you something?**

_Of course_. Dean tries to quell the rush of nerves. In the past, sentences like that have bitten him in the ass. Especially via text. He can't help the next needy sentence he tacks on. _Hope it's something good?_

The silence that follows feels like it lasts for hours. He tries not to panic, the exhaustion coursing through his veins making him more paranoid than he normally would be. When the reply finally comes, Dean holds his breath as he reads.

**I feel drunk, Dean. I'm that tired. I wouldn't be saying this otherwise, so please do me a favour and delete this message after you read it, save me the embarrassment of recalling what I said. OK, here goes: I feel like you were meant to come into our lives. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and being around you fills me with a new lease of life. I don't want to freak you out by saying that I can see a future for us in a way I never saw with Cole. I don't want to freak you out by saying that I feel like we belong together. Will it freak you out if I say it all? I want you forever, Dean. I love you.**

Dean’s vision blurs so much by the end of the message that he can barely read the words. He disentangles himself from Billie and pads out into the living room. By the time he gets to the sofa, there's another text from Cas.

**Oh, God. I freaked you out, didn't I? I'm sorry, Dean. It's the fatigue talking. Forget I said anything.**

He wraps a blanket around his shoulders and slides the door open, going out into the decking to watch the sun rise. The warm orange glow feels cleansing, like it brings with it a new purpose, simultaneously erasing the horror of the day before. The waves crash and ebb effortlessly, the patch of sand down by the water where they had fought for Lexie’s life now smooth and renewed thanks to the cleansing tide. The air tastes salty and fresh.

**Dean?**

He snuggles up on the chair Lexie had once told him was the most comfortable - it is, by far - and brings up the contacts section in his phone. He scrolls to the Cs - he only has four contacts, so it doesn't take much scrolling - and hits call.

“Dean?” The low whisper is shaky and strained, and Cas sounds like he's going to cry.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Dean has never been one for soppy declarations and saccharine endearments. At least, he wasn't until he crashed headlong into Castiel Novak’s life. Cas brings that side out in him, and it's hard to put a cork in it now. “I want everything you just said. I want forever too.”

“Really?” Cas laughs and sniffles; Dean can picture him smiling and wiping his cheeks with his fingers. “I'm sorry, Dean, I shouldn't have said all that. I shouldn't put pressure on you like that, I tend to run my mouth when I'm tired, and-”

“Cas. Baby, it's fine. I'm glad you said it.” They trade sweet nothings for a few minutes, and Dean snuggles a little deeper into his blanket. “How's Lexie?”

"He's all right. He's sleeping, been out for hours.” There's an underlying tension in Cas’ voice which he's trying valiantly to hide. “How's Billie?”

“Oh… fine. Been an angel. Slept all night.”

There's a pregnant pause, then Cas shuffles out a laugh on the other end of the phone.

“We are both horrible liars.”

“Hey, speak for yourself. I could have kept it up.”

“I bet you could.” There's the potential for the conversation to shift, but they're both too tired and Dean misses Cas’ warmth and the blue of his eyes, not his mouth or his body. Well, OK, he misses both, but what he really wants now is a hug, not sex. Somewhere behind the house, an animal howls and the wind rustles through the long grass of the dune. “Are you outside?”

“Yeah.” Dean doesn't miss the note of concern in Cas’ voice. “Don't worry, Jimmy is with Billie. They're both fast asleep, they won't even notice I'm gone.”

"You, Billie, and Jimmy are asleep in our bed?” Cas sounds stunned and confused, and is probably pulling the type of bewildered face that makes Dean want to kiss him and never stop. “That's… sweet. Bit weird, but sweet. I'm not even gonna ask why, because I don't fucking care. As long as you're all OK, that's all that matters to me."

“Yeah. Totally.” Dean doesn't have the strength to argue. The ocean is dazzling under the sun as it rises, colour exploding everywhere. “Wish you were here. Sunrise is beautiful.”

“I wish I was, too.” Cas sighs heavily. “This has fucking sucked. Epically.”

"Sure has. But it's over now, baby. It's a new day. Everyone's all right.”

They sit in silence for a while, content just to listen to each other breathe on the other end of the line. Eventually, Dean’s eyes begin to close and he's sure Cas is falling asleep too.

“Cas? I'm going to hang up now, OK? Try and get some shuteye.”

“Mmm. Kay.”

“You in bed?”

“Yeah. Next to Lexie.” The sound of Cas kissing his kid comes down the line. “Don't dare let him out of my sight.”

And Dean knows that's a wound that will take some healing. He really, really gets it, and he hopes fervently that he can help Cas heal. Help him learn to trust his own instincts again, and help him be able to let the boys continue to live their carefree life. But now isn't the time to start.

“I get it. I'll go check on Jimmy and Billie. And Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“When we’re all back home again, let's watch the sunrise together. All of us. You, me, Jimmy and the boys. Blanket fort, campfire, marshmallows, the lot.” Dean smiles at the idea. He could make them all an early breakfast, lots of coffee and bacon and tomato sandwiches, everything from that farmers market Cas likes so much. They could all snuggle up, the kids sitting huddled on the older Novak twins’ laps, maybe with Dean in between them pressed to Cas’ side. Maybe Lexie would be cuddling his rabbits, and Billie would be excitedly narrating what they're all doing. Counting the colours of the sky as the dawn breaks. It's a beautiful mental image, and he fervently hopes it will come true. “Promise?”

He's sure he can hear Cas smiling. And he can definitely hear a dam breaking as he speaks, tears of exhausted emotion lacing every word. “That would make me very happy, Dean.”

*

Dean shouldn't do it. He knows he shouldn't do it. But he does it anyway, story of his life. His curiosity and heartache get the better of him, and while the house is still and quiet in the early morning, he takes advantage of that fact.

He hasn't used Cas’ laptop in ages, and it takes him a moment to remember the passwords to get in. When he logs on to Facebook, it's automatically signed in to Cas’ profile and he hesitates. He should log out, should log into his own, but what if he accidentally does something and it shows up on his newsfeed? His family and friends would go bananas. It's safer to stay on Cas’ login; he isn't snooping, anyway. Well, not at Cas’ stuff.

With slightly trembling hands, he types ‘Sam Winchester’ into the search bar and hits enter. Sure enough, his brother’s profile comes up straight away, with a new profile image Dean hasn't seen before. He clicks on it, and it's an image of Sam with his arm around a pretty blonde woman, Jess, and they're both smiling at the camera. It's a ‘selfie’ (Dean’s sure that's what they’re called), and his heart hurts to look at it. Sam’s grin is natural and carefree, and Jess’ eyes are sparkling. It's taken recently; the upload date says only a week ago. Sam is wearing a blue and green flannel shirt, one Dean got him for his birthday the year before - before everything went to hell in a hand basket - and he knows his brother only really wears it on vacation. It doesn't fit his upright corporate chump status. So they must be on holiday together, somewhere sunny and green if the glimpses of backdrop are anything to go by.

Fighting a sudden wave of emotion, Dean clicks out of Facebook and closes the laptop. His eyes are burning and he buries his face in his hands. He's happy for Sam, of course he is. Happy that his brother is happy, and is clearly enjoying his life and isn't letting Dean’s death suffocate him. His expression was clear and joyful, one Dean knows of from photographs but hasn't seen much of in person in the last few years. All he wants, all he ever really wanted out of life, was for Sammy to be content and happy with his lot. And it looks like that has all come true.

But damn it if it doesn't hurt like a bitch so see his brother has so clearly moved on without a backward glance. Of course you can't tell much from a photo. But Dean knows if the tables were turned, he would be a mess and a recluse, hiding away from the world and mourning his brother until the day he finally felt like his heart wasn't being crushed into oblivion.   
For Sam, that day has clearly been and gone.

*

“Lexie!”

Jimmy sets Billie down, and the kid runs across the room and scrambles up onto the bed. The adults all watch as the twins cuddle, and Lexie twitters on about how fun the hospital is and how the cool nurse-man gave him ice cream and cookies and how daddy didn't mind because he's sick and it's OK to eat sugar if you're sick because it actually makes you feel better and that is scientific fact. Dean hides a grin behind his hand, wrapping an arm around Cas’ shoulders and squeezing him tight.

“He's doing better. So much better. One more night here, then he can go home.” Cas sounds wrecked, and he looks dreadful. His eyes are dark and heavy, shadowed, and he's too pale. His hair is standing on end, and Dean tries to tame it without much success.

“That's wonderful, Cas.” He presses a kiss to Cas’ temple. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes…” It’s said without conviction, and Dean makes a snap decision right there and then. It won't be what Cas wants, it it's absolutely what he needs.

“Right. Look how happy the boys are, see? They're fine together for a while, so why don't we get you home so you can shower and take a nap. And eat, you must be starving, Cas.”

“No.” Cas shakes his head vehemently. “I won't leave them. I can't. It's not happening, Dean. No.”

An hour later, Dean is bundling a tearful, exhausted Cas into a cab to head back to the house for some R&R, beyond thankful that Jimmy had piped up to support him, and to insist his brother take some time out. He promised hourly updates on the twins, complete with photos, and instructed Cas not to set foot in the hospital again until he's had at least four hours sleep.

“That's four hours _sleep_ , Cas. Not just four hours in the house. I'll set Dean on you.”

“Please do that.”

Cas’ sleepy, teasing smile makes them all laugh, and it's the most relaxed any of them have felt in hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hit me up on Tumblr to chat about any of my fics or about the season finale, if you've seen it and have ~feelings. My heart needs a hug. 
> 
> Love ♡


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say this chapter would take a few days? I actually meant 'less than a day'. The S12 finale has kicked my muse into overdrive ❤

Back at the house, Cas is all hard lines of tension and clenched jaw. While he had seemed happy enough to leave the hospital initially, being away from his kids is clearly painful and Dean knows he's already sent Jimmy a flurry of anxious text messages. He tries to take Cas’ hand, to soothe him and coax him to sit down, but he's repeatedly brushed off. He eventually sits down at the breakfast bar as Cas clatters about making coffee, and just watches him move around the room. A steaming mug is slammed down in front of him, and in rough, sharp tones Cas excuses himself to go and have a shower. Dean listens to him walk away down the hall, knowing the ire isn't entirely directed at him but feeling the burn anyway.

He isn't a father. Hasn't ever had a child of his own. But in this moment, he feels the pain that Cas is feeling. The ache of being apart from the twins, and the gnawing worry that they aren't OK.

 _They're fine_ , his subconscious tries to soothe. _They're with Jimmy, safe and sound in a hospital. Bright lights, ice cream, colouring books, nurse checking in on them… they're fine._

It's logical and it's true. But it doesn't ease the ache.

Dean downs his coffee almost in one go, feeling the sting of the liquid as it all but scalds his mouth. He listens to the shower turn on, and pictures Cas stepping out of his clothes. He can imagine it all too clearly. Cas rolling his shoulders and arching his neck, stiff from lying awkwardly in a hospital bed all night. Pushing his jeans down his thighs and leaving them in a puddle on the floor because putting them in the laundry basket is too taxing right now. Leaning on the sink with his head bowed, closed eyes scrunched tight, trying to remember how to feel normal again. Inhaling the steam as it fills the room and letting his aching muscles start to unwind. Stripping off his boxers and stepping under the spray, head bowed and water cascading over his broad shoulders and down his spine.

His legs unable to hold his weight; him sitting in the corner of the shower with his head in his hands. Waiting for something to stop the hollow sadness.

Dean knocks gently, then a little louder. He doesn't get a reply, so he cracks the door open just an inch - none of the doors in Castiel’s house lock - and for a moment he's unable to see through the steam. Then his gaze lands on his boyfriend who is sitting, as Dean suspected he would be, in the shower with his arms around his knees and his head resting lightly on them. He's shivering, despite the heat, and Dean quietly approaches him and reaches down hesitantly to touch his wet shoulder.

“Cas? Sweetheart? You OK?”

“Yeah.” The voice is muffled, exhausted. “Tired. Drained. Feel bad for leaving the boys.” He uncurls somewhat, and looks at Dean with reddened eyes. “Can we go back to the hospital?”

“Not yet. You need to rest, and you promised Jimmy and I that you would.” Dean holds out his hands and helps Cas up onto unsteady legs. The other man’s arms come around his neck, the water soaking into his clothes, and he just holds him for a long moment. “I'm here, baby.” He strokes Cas’ back gently, cradling him and letting him sag against his body. “Whatever you need. I'm here.”

“You.” The word is murmured out against his neck. “I need you.”

“You've got me, babe. Right here.”

“No.” Cas’ lips ghost across Dean’s neck, his tongue flicking out to lap at the damp skin. “I _want_ you.”

He pulls back, and in his eyes is a swirling pool of desire, underwritten by fear and misery. Dean cups his jaw and kisses him softly, nervous to push anything with Cas in such a fragile state.

“We don't have to. We can just go to bed…”

“No, Dean, I don't want to just go to bed and fall asleep. I want… I _need_ to feel something. Something good. Something to make me forget, and I need to feel you.” He kisses back, and it's hot and powerful, his tongue demanding entry into Dean’s mouth at the same moment that his hips cant forward in a desperate arch. He's powerless under the assault; how the fuck is he supposes to say no, to a wet, naked, needy Cas? Endorphins are sweeping through him, demanding that he hook his hands under Cas’ thighs, lift him up and carry him to bed and make him _feel_. But part of his rational mind still clings on, and needs some convincing.

“Baby. You sure? I don't want you to do anything you-”

“Dean.” Cas’ mouth finds his again. “Stop fucking talking. Take me to bed.”

*

It's slow, romantic, and the best two hours of Dean’s life. He's never been one for pomp and circumstance when it comes to sex, but tonight it's different. He carries Cas through to their bedroom and sits him down on the bed, urging him to lie back. He runs his hands down the planes of Cas’ chest, down the firm lines of his abs and the V of his hip flexors, then down his thighs before stepping away to just look at his tanned, beautiful boyfriend lying spread out on the bed waiting for him. Cas’ hands are up by his head and his legs apart; he looks the picture of sensuality, and Dean can't wait to be on him.

But he does something first. He picks up Cas’ phone and taps the music app, searching for something slow and romantic to fit his mood. Moments later, _Colourblind_ by Counting Crows filters into the room and Cas smiles, reaching a hand towards Dean. The phone is set down by the bed, Dean strips slowly, and then they're lying naked together, tracing each other's bodies and kissing deeply. Dean is lying between Cas’ legs, slowly grinding his hips and the drag of their cocks together sends sparks of pleasure throughout both of them. Cas is panting already, needy, his skin glowing as though he's about to break a sweat. Dean thinks he's never looked so perfect. He brushes his hands over the tanned sheets, stopping to tug and pull at his nipples until they're hard and peaked beneath his fingers. Cas moans, low and breathy, and Dean’s cock throbs deliciously.

“You wanna fuck me, sweetheart?” He whispers into Cas’ open mouth. “Want me all laid out for you?”

“No.” Cas is definitely panting now, his hands griping Dean’s hips and pulling him tight against his body. “I want… I _need_ you inside me. I need to feel it. I want it so deep, Dean. Make me scream for you.”

And fuck, if that isn't the hottest thing ever to leave Castiel’s lips. Dean kisses him with fervour, his fingers digging in to muscles biceps so hard that there will definitely be bruises. He loves this man _so much._

He spends a long time between Cas’ legs, using his tongue and fingers to open him up until the man is sobbing and whining hopelessly, writhing on the sheets and pleading for Dean to take him. It's unbearably hot, and Dean reaches down to cup himself, thumbing the damp slit and cradling his balls. Too much stimulation right now will push him too close and hell, the noises from Cas’ mouth are doing nothing to help that situation. He laps a long, wet stroke over his lover’s slackened hole and Cas groans, his head falling back helplessly onto the pillows. His hands are hooked under his own knees, holding himself open for Dean, and it's fucking fantastic. Any shame or nerves that had existed within Cas during their first few times together have evaporated, and instead he's wanton and needy and desperate, and seems to have no qualms about begging for what he wants.

“Please. Dean. Don't make me wait any longer.” There are tears clinging to his lashes, and his bottom lip is red and swollen from where he's been worrying it with his own teeth. “ _Please_.”

They make love with Dean kneeling between Cas’ legs, his hips pulled up onto Dean’s thighs and one leg wrapped around his waist securely. Cas fists his hands in the sheets and cries out, arching and gasping with each deep thrust. His other leg is up against Dean’s chest, ankle resting on his shoulder, and Dean kisses his calf and holds it there for better leverage. A deeper angle. A better way to make Cas moan. They're both drenched in sweat, the sheets damp beneath them, and they're working slowly towards an intense climax with deep thrusts, erotic grinding and Cas arching and canting his hips in Dean’s lap to draw him deeper. Eventually, when it feels like hours have passed, Cas’ panting becomes desperate and the heat building in Dean’s groin comes to a sudden and explosive climax.

They come together, the pulsing of Dean’s cock pushing Cas over the edge into a shattering orgasm. The other man cries out, long and low and his whole body arches, head tilting back as his untouched cock pulses hot come onto his taut abs. His hands grip the pillow above his head and he utters Dean’s name in a low scream, body taut and shaking. He looks incredible. Dean fucks him through it with gentle thrusts of his hips, riding his own high as he fills his lover’s body with his spend, the delicious clenching of Cas around him drawing out his pleasure and whipping a ‘ _fuck, oh God’_ from his lips.

He falls forward, bracing himself on his hands either side of Cas’ ribs,and pants, watching the sharp rise and fall of Cas’ sweat-drenched chest as his heart rate to begin to slow. Cas looks completely fucked-out, unable to do more than lift a hand and trail his fingers down Dean’s cheek.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and Dean leans down to kiss him in response. It's weird to be thanked for sex, but he gets it. He needed it just as much as Cas. “That was… I've never… I love you, Dean. So much.”

He shifts, pulling out gently and Cas whines at the loss, already grabbing at him to pull him close, murmuring words of adoration into his skin. He cuddles up against Dean’s side, head on his chest, and traces circles into the cooling sweat on his stomach. Dean pulls him close and pets his hair, scrabbling for the sheets and pulling them up to cover them. They should clean up, but he doesn't want to move right now. He wants this to last forever. _Purple Rain_ plays from Cas’ phone.

He's moments from dozing off when Cas pulls away and sits up, groaning in displeasure as his muscles protest.

“Dean. I'm going to get a shower and get dressed. Do you need anything?”

“No. Just hurry back.” He turns and snuggles down into the covers, letting himself drift until he realises something in Cas’ words didn't add up. Get dressed? Why is he getting dressed?

Sure enough, the shower is shut off and five minutes later Cas appears in ratty jeans, a black V-neck t-shirt and an oversized knit cardigan which he’s busy rolling up the sleeves of as he walks into the bedroom.

“Can you call us a cab?” The old tension from earlier seems to have settled back into his shoulders, and he looks nervy and on edge. “We should get back. It's been too long.” Then, upon seeing Dean cuddled up and cosy, on the edge of sleep, he smiles softly. “In fact, don't worry. You stay here, you had a rough night too. But I should get to the hospital.”

He leans down to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead, jerking in surprise when his wrist is caught. Dean pushes himself up onto an elbow, locking eyes with Cas who frowns and tries to twist away.

“Cas. You promised to get some rest. You're dead on your feet…” He immediately regrets his choice of words as the blue eyes darken and Cas jerks his arm free.

“That's exactly why I've got to go. To make sure my _son_ isn't dead, Dean. Please at least _try_ to understand.”

“Cas,” Dean hurries to climb out of bed, pulling on sweatpants and a faded sleep t-shirt, and stumble down the hall after him, grabbing his sleeve and forcing him to a stop. “Stop. You're running on empty, man. You need to sleep or you'll hit rock bottom, then what good will you be to the boys?” There's a petulant silence, and Dean’s voice takes on a coaxing tone. “Come on, baby. Come back to bed. Just a couple of hours.”

Cas isn't looking at him. He's staring at the floor, and when he does finally meet Dean’s eyes there's fire burning in their blue depths.

“Don't talk to me about rock bottom, Dean. You don't fucking know what rock bottom _is_. This isn't fucking _it_. This is me, spending too long in bed already, needing to get back to my children. So stop clinging to me and let me go to them.”

Ouch. Everything about that tirade stings, and Dean tightens his grip, his fingernails catching some of Cas’ skin underneath. Either everything Dean is saying is coming out wrong or Cas is looking for a fight. Which, after the lovemaking they just shared, hurts a whole fucking lot. Cas is scowling hard now, and Dean’s patience is about to run out. He tries vehemently to keep the tremor out of his voice when he speaks.

“Don't tell me I don't know rock bottom. Don't get on your moral fucking high horse and think you know it all. Because you fucking don't. You-”

“And whose fault is that?” Cas fires back. “You're the one hiding his past, not me. So you wanna talk about it? Talk about whether your trauma was worse than mine? Because I'm all fucking ears, Dean.” His cheeks are flushed and his blue eyes sparkle with emotion. Dean isn't prepared for the tirade that leaves his lips. “No? Nothing? _I'll_ go first, shall I? _My_ rock bottom was holding my one-year-old and not being able to fucking _comprehend_ why there was blood all over our bedroom, or why Lexie wouldn't stop screaming. My rock bottom was sitting in an ambulance then a fucking _police station_ answering questions and barely able to fucking _speak_! My rock bottom was sitting on _that_ sofa all night surrounded by boxes I couldn't face unpacking, trying to work out why he fucking left us! What we did so _wrong!_ How I _failed him_ so badly!” Cas’ voice is rising steadily, both in pitch and volume, and Dean has to resist sudden blinding urge to cover his ears. Or Cas’ mouth. “Oh, and it was kneeling out there on that fucking beach while my son lay beneath your hands, _dying_! There! I've shared mine, it's your turn, Dean!”

It's hurtful and unfair, and Dean isn't playing such a ridiculously spiteful game. He hasn't a clue how the morning has spiralled so out of control, but he's not willing to send it further down the rabbit hole. He releases Cas and steps away, silently smarting and holding his anger in check, and telling himself that it's just the pain and fear talking. That Cas is overwhelmed with exhaustion and isn't acting rationally, and the pain he's feeling is taking him back to the dark days after he lost his husband. But this is their first fight, and it isn't a pleasant one. Cas’ seems to have his main weaknesses in his crosshairs.

He turns to walk away, but Cas grabs his arm and tugs him back slightly more roughly than he should, and Dean battles a wave of irritation. If Cas wants to go to the hospital alone, he should. They need the space.

“Call me a cab, Dean. Now.” His voice is like ice, and it's such a bizarre demand that Dean just blinks at him. _What?_

“No. Call one yourself. I'm going back to bed.”

“You're not!” Cas’ voice rises again, and there's an edge of hysteria to his voice. His blue eyes are sparking and vacant simultaneously, and it's almost like he's looking through Dean. He needs rest, but right now it looks like that will be a long time coming. “Call me a cab, Dean, and come back with me to the hospital. I need you!”

“You need to chill the fuck out, Cas, that's what you need to do.”

Fuming, Dean pushes past Cas into the kitchen, any desire he had to go back to sleep completely gone now, to be replaced with righteous anger. Cas is being utterly unreasonable, for no reason at all. He's tempted to go out, to go for a walk on the beach and let his boyfriend simmer down or disappear to the hospital, whatever he needs to do. He very badly doesn't want this fight to carry on, and knows if they remain in the same room for much longer then things could get explosive. Is this what Cas did after Cole died? Was volatile and spiteful and pushed people away in an effort to deal with his agony? Is this why he's so isolated? Dean is starting to picture it quite clearly. He shouldn't leave. Cas is hurting and vulnerable, but he's also explosive and unpredictable and Dean’s sanity needs a reprieve. He needs space.

Cas watches him hunt for his shoes with an unattractive sneer on his face.

“Running away again, Dean? It's what you do best, right?”

And that is one step too fucking far. He hears Cas clap a hand over his own mouth, clearly shocked by his own words, and his breath catches on a sob. But it's like a knife has been dug in between his ribs, and he's hot all over, shaking.

“Dean… I didn't mean…”

“Yeah. You did. I need some fucking space, man. I'm going out.”

“No, Dean! You can't! You can't _do this_ , run away every time things get tough! You can't run away forever!”

Cas’ cheeks are red and tear-streaked, and his eyes glittering with anger and something else that Dean can't place, something he doesn't want to see. He can't do this right now. He turns and stalks from the room, anger and panic pulsing through his veins - he needs space. But Cas follows him, and when Dean reaches the living room his arm is gripped and he's spun around to face Cas.

“Tell me! Tell me what happened, you owe me that!”

“I don't,” He tries to twist away but Cas only grips harder. “You said you wouldn't push me, you promised.”

“Fuck my promises! _Tell me!_ ”

Cas is wild with distress, half-sobbing and his breath comes in low gasps. Dean can feel his own anger building slowly, bubbling beneath the surface, and he needs to get away and get some space before he says or does something he can't take back. He needs Cas to back off, but hands fist tightly in the fabric of his t-shirt, blue eyes wide and slightly glazed, glassy with fatigue and hysteria. Despite his exhaustion, Cas is freakishly strong and Dean struggles to prise his fingers away.

“Castiel,” Dean’s voice is low and dangerous, shaky, and he barely recognises it. What he does recognise are the way the walls seem to be pulling in, the red tinge at the edges of his vision, and the way his throat is suddenly so dry he can barely swallow. Is hands are tingling, numbness spreading down his forearms and thighs, and he takes a deep, forced steady breath. “You need to back off. Now. I'm serious.”

“Or what, Dean? What will you _do?”_ The last word is spat out as Cas pushes on his chest, tears running down his cheeks now. “What have you _done?_ ”

“Not your fucking business.”

It's a low growl, threatening, and Dean finally manages to disentangle himself and pull free, casting about for safety. They need space, need to be apart for a while so that Cas can calm down and so Dean can get a handle on the slow-building, furious hysteria rising inside him. The hysteria that is threatening to let everything spill out in barbed, caustic words aimed to hurt Cas. He feels like the walls are closing in on him, his chest is tight and he's starting to panic.

_Cas, please, don't push me like this…_

_Cas, please, I don't want it to come out like this…_

_Cas, please…_

“Of course it's my business!” Even his voice is wild now, tight with hysteria. “You crash into my life like this, make yourself a part of this family, and you don't trust me enough to tell me what the fuck is going on! It's been too long, you know it! Tell me! Tell me what was so awful that you abandoned everything you ever had! _Tell me!_ ”

Cas is behind him, crowding him, _forcing_ him to talk, and he's on his last nerve. He knows the other man is consumed by his own anger and fears right now, and that he's releasing them onto Dean, but it doesn't help one jot. Cas’ hands come to land firmly on his shoulder blades then, in a movement Dean would never, ever haveanticipated, Cas shoves him. It's not hard, but it's enough to make him stumble forward into the coffee table, his shin colliding painfully with the solid wood. Pain lances up his leg and a startled cry leaves his lips.

And Dean snaps. The walls come in, the red haze comes down, and he loses control. He spins around and grips Cas by the biceps, shaking him and hauling him closer until they're almost pressed against each other, a mockery of the romance they had shared so recently. Cas stills, shocked, but it's too late; the words spill from Dean’s lips and with them his last hope of Cas making good on his promise to love him for always.

“You want to know? You _need_ to know? Fine, here's what you're dying to fucking know, Castiel. I _killed_ someone, all right?” He's screaming, right in Cas’ face, but his vision is red and hazy. He doesn't see the other man in his arms, doesn't see his lips part in shock or hear the muted cry that leaves his lips. “It was a fucking _accident_ , but it happened all the same. I _killed_ a little girl, Cas! She was six years old! And she's _dead!_ Because of _me!_ I watched her die on the sidewalk right in front of me! I’m a _murderer!_ ”

Dean’s crying now, sobbing, openly and without shame, shaking Cas again roughly as an image of blank green eyes floats in front of his vision and he stumbles back away from it, swiping uselessly at the empty air. Cas is white-faced with horror, unmoving, just staring, and Dean can almost taste the way the air in the room changes.

Outside, the storm has whipped up again, and the skies are dark, dangerous, and full of anger.


	14. Chapter 14

_I killed someone…_

The words echo around the silent room, then the first crash of thunder splits the air. Cas is silent, motionless, staring at him with a sickened expression and a cold chill sweeps through Dean. His voice is tight with anguish when he speaks.

“Are you fucking happy now? Is that what you wanted to know? I took a child’s future, her _life_.” He swipes at his hot face and stumbles back, away, blinded by tears. “She’s dead, and her family is torn apart, and it's all because of _me._ ” He's struggling to breathe now, chest tight as though someone is wrapping a belt around it and pulling. “I can't… I can't do this any more…”

He shoves the glass door open and stumbles out into the dune, making his way down to the beach blinded by tears. The adrenaline coursing through him is making his heart pound in his ears and he can taste copper: he's bitten his lip or tongue or something in the argument with Cas. His bare feet drag on the sand, the wind whipping through his hair and the salty spray from the ocean burns his hot skin. The storm swirls and lashes across the ocean, lightning hitting the water some distance away, and a low rumble of thunder threatens. It isn't raining, not yet, but the sky is apocalyptic-dark.

He collapses to his knees near the water, breaking down and sobbing. Cas hasn't followed him. He hoped against hope that he would have done - that he wouldn't have let Dean leave, but he has, and it's too symbolic. Means more than just letting him go outside. Cas is going to let him go, he knows it. Knew it would always come to this, and that's why he couldn't bear to reveal his terrible secret earlier on. He let himself be lulled into security, and now it's all over. Sobs choke him, his throat constricting as he struggles for breath, and behind his closed eyes he sees flashes of a pale face with curly dark hair, white skin streaked with blood, and green eyes. The green eyes that have haunted him ever since that day.

Cas has abandoned him.

Cas broke his promise.

Dean deserved it.

With that realisation, all his hopes and dreams of his life with the Novak family shatter into a thousand pieces, and he feels agony tear through his chest as though someone has knifed him in the heart.

He pitches forward, gasping and crying out as grief consumes him, sobbing desperately as every emotion he's kept locked up tight over the last few months comes spewing out in an uncontrollable tidal wave. Memories fill his vision and he's lost to the past.

The screaming of brakes on wet ground. The screams of the little girl’s mother. The blood. The glazed eyes. The horror in Sam’s voice as he called him, numb, from the police station. The sadness in Bobby’s. The disbelief on Benny’s face when he came to pick him up and take him home. The sleepless nights that culminated in a doctor prescribing him medication: antidepressants and sleeping pills. Taking too many and vomiting them up into the shower tray in fear. The panic attacks that followed.

The news reports. The journalists. His name on every newsstand, on the local radio, and his wide-eyed, haunted image splashed across local TV stations. Getting shouted at in the streets. A woman throwing red paint at him as he walked towards the grocery store, sobbing ‘murderer’ at him as he reeled in fright. Locking himself in his house, too afraid to leave. The reporters finding his address and camping out outside.

Getting charged with causing death by dangerous driving.

Going to court, without Sam to defend him. Sam telling him they needed distance because he was working an important case and this type of ‘distraction’ wasn't what he needed.

Getting acquitted, and having to walk through an angry throng of people while his lawyer whispered in his ear and dug his fingers into his back to keep him moving _. No comment, please. No comment, thank you._

The look on Benny’s face when Dean visited the cafe for the first time, the helpless expression he had when his patrons got up to leave in protest at Dean’s mere presence. He never set foot in the cafe after that and his friendship with Benny was fractured beyond repair.

Sam not coming home until weeks after the court appearances, and only staying for the night when he did, leaving before dawn to get back to his office by 9. The insinuation that Dean was taking all this too hard, and accidents happen. The devastation he felt when Sam asked, ‘well, _were_ you watching the road?’.

The Impala crashing into the water…

He retches and vomits up the contents of his stomach onto the sand as the rain starts. It's hard and lashing, miniature bullets attacking his skin and he can't stop crying. Thunder crashes overhead and lightning strikes the water, closer now. It's so dark it could be midnight, and the wind is biting. California storms are unpredictable and wild, and don't let up. It's as though God is looking down on Dean, punishing him for his transgressions. Ripping away the life he built for himself and reminding him that killers don't deserve happiness. He cries even harder, his chest and throat burning as he brings up more bile. His arms are shaking as he braces himself, his fingers digging deep into the wet sand as a chill sweeps through him. He's never felt despair like this before, and it's carving out a hollow carven inside him.

He doesn't know how long he's out there, alone on the beach in the middle of a storm. His clothes and hair are soaked, he's chilled to the bone, and numbness is starting to spread through him. The kind of aching numbness that sciatic pain causes, but this is spreading down his extremities. It's cold. He should go inside.

He can't. He has nowhere left to go.

The ocean taunts him, tempting him, but he can find the energy to stand up. He wonders for a second… just for a second. They say drowning is painless, but never seeing Cas again would be an even worse agony. Even if it's just so that Cas can throw his things at him and point to the door.

The lives he's ruined stream through his mind like some warped credits at the end of a tragic movie. Castiel Novak, who loved him when he shouldn't have. Billie and Lexie Novak, who he should never have got close to. Jimmy Novak, who gave him his misplaced trust. Bobby Singer, the closest thing he has to a disappointed father. Sam Winchester, the brother he humiliated. Anna Milton, who watches her daughter die in front of her. Lilith Milton, who lost her future to Dean.

“I'm so sorry,” The words rip from him in agony, directed at nothing and nobody but the blackened sky and the crashing of the waves. “I'm so fucking _sorry_! I'm _sorry,_ I swear I didn't mean it! I _didn't mean it_!”

The storm swallows his words, and he sits back on his heels, head tipped up to the rain, feeling like he's falling. His whole world is falling with him, and he's alone to bear the weight.

Again.

*

Someone crashes to their knees next to him, and something heavy and warm comes to rest on his shoulders. A voice is in his ear, barely audible over the road of thunder, and fingers are touching his face, forcing his jaw up. He can't see properly through his tears and the lashing rain, but it's Cas. Cas wrapping a blanket around him, Cas kissing his cold cheek, Cas’ hands dragging at him, Cas’ desperate voice begging him to come inside. To come home. Warm lips press against his skin again, and he looks into clear blue eyes wide with fear and sorrow, and he allows himself to be lifted to his feet, numbly walking back along the beach with Cas towards the house. He can see it through a haze of blurry vision. The lights on, burning like a beacon to guide them back. Their _home_.

Cas’ home.

The heavy blanket around him keeps off the worst of the rain, but by the time they stumble through the glass doors they are both soaked to the bone and shivering. Cas steers them down the hallway towards the bathroom, leaving wet footprints as they go; Cas’ feet are bare, too.

Wordlessly, as Dean just stands there like a rag doll, Cas strips him of his clothing and wraps a huge white fluffy towel around him as the sound of water filling the bath reaches his ears. Dean is shaking violently, freezing; he can't feel his hands and feet and almost falls as Cas coaxes him to get into the bath. The water feels scalding to his ice-cold skin. He stumbles and staggers as his feet slip beneath him, but Cas has him in a firmly reassuring hold so that he doesn't slip and fall, and eventually he's lying submerged in the water, scented with some orange blossom shit that Cas likes, and is trying to pull himself together - and failing. His head looks to one side and he sees Cas kneeling on the rug, wrapped in a blanket he's pulled from somewhere, shivering and wiping Dean’s hair back from his face.

“I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so sorry,” Cas is babbling, panic lacing his words as he dips his hands into the water to splash it up onto Dean’s chest, trying desperately to ward off the chill wracking his body. “I went too far, I'm so sorry, and I thought you'd want space then Jimmy called and Lexie took a weird turn and I freaked out even _more_ and when I hung up the storm had hit and I couldn't see you on the beach any more and I just… I just… Dean, I'm so fucking _sorry_.” Cas starts to cry, silver tears tracking down his drawn cheeks, brow furrowed in distress, clinging to Dean as well as he can from the edge of the tub. “Please, forgive me Dean, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.”

It's too overwhelming and Dean’s energy levels are too low. He doesn't have it in him to try and comfort Cas; or to understand why he hasn't been thrown out. Why Cas is apologising to _him_. The combination of physical and emotional fatigue mixed with the warm water and the steam in the bathroom saps him of the last of his energy, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close is Cas desperately calling his name.

*

He wakes slowly, drowsily, as though he's coming to after a long stint of illness, with no real memory of why he feels so goddamn terrible. His nose is blocked, his skin feels chilled but he's sweating, and there's a warm presence at his side in the dark room. And that presence is trembling under a pile of blankets. Quite sniffles punctuate the silence, and he gropes for the source of the noise, freezing as the body next to him jerks and sits up immediately. Cas’ hair is on end, and his eyes wide and fearful.

“Dean? Dean, are you all right?” Hands are on his shoulders, his arms, his face; Cas looks _freaked_. “Dean, say something, _please._ ”

“Cas…” It comes out as a croak, so he coughs and tries again. “Cas, what's wrong? What happened?”

“Oh, Jesus, thank God!” Cas collapses onto his chest, his arms coming tightly around him as he hugs Dean in a bone-crushing grip. “I thought you were sick again, the way you were when I first found you, and it scared me so much, Dean. I couldn't go through all that again, not after…” He pulls himself up and looks Dean in the eyes; he's sniffling and tearful, and Dean’s fuzzy brain is trying valiantly to remember what ‘after’ he's talking about.

Then… then…

Oh.

Fuck.

He knows. Cas knows. Cas _knows_ , and yet he's still here, in the house, in their bedroom while the storm rages on uncaringly outside, and Cas is _worried_ about him and his head hurts and nothing makes sense.

He extricates himself from the octopus-grip and sits up slowly, watching the other man frown in confusion and reach for him again.

“Dean…?”

“You do remember what I told you, right?”

“Of course I do.” Cas’ cheeks redden and suddenly he appears to find eye contact difficult, focusing instead on a loose thread on the duvet they're both cuddled up under.

“Then…”

“Don't.” A hand comes up to press gently at his mouth, and he balks in shock. Before he can protest, Cas continues. “Don't say all the things I know are going through your mind. Just… let me talk first?” Dean nods mutely, and his mouth is freed. “I should never have forced you to tell me. I promised you I wouldn't, and I broke that promise. I know you'll need time to forgive that, but I really hope you know how much I regret it.” Cas sniffles, staring at the sheets again. “I hate that I'm like that. That I push people and force their hands, and I'm so fucking sorry, Dean. You were the one person I never wanted to let down, and I fucking managed it anyway. I'm just…” Cas seems to run out of steam, his shoulders dropping. If he were a dog, his ears would be hanging limp and his tail would be firmly between his legs. “I'm sorry. For doing that to you.”

Dean can't help it; he pulls Cas to him with one rough arm behind his shoulders and kisses his forehead. He doesn't know if he's allowed to touch or not, but Cas touched him first so he figures he gets a pass. He's right, because Cas lets out a choked, weary, relieved little sob and clings to him again. They hold each other for a while, awkward in a half-sitting position then Dean’s bracing arm gives out and they fall together onto the white, fluffy sheets and Cas presses up against his side murmuring, ‘so sorry’ and ‘love you’ into his skin. Dean still feels hot and sickly and bone-weary, but he lets Cas nuzzle him and whisper endearments, allowing the deep gashes in his soul to be somewhat soothed by the words. But he can't let it go on for too long without knowing.

“Cas…” He states resolutely at the ceiling as he speaks. “What I told you… you must feel… you must…” _Hate me_.

“Everything I said to you on the phone still stands, Dean.” Cas’ blue eyes are earnest and clear as he pushes up onto an elbow to look at him. “I love you. I love you with everything I have, in a way I've never loved anybody before. And whatever life throws our way, we will get through together. And that hasn't changed and never will.” He drops his gaze for just a second, worrying at his bottom lip. “I know you don't want to talk about it. And you don't have to. But… I just gotta know one thing.” He looks up again and there's a flash of concern behind the blue. “Are you on the run? Are the cops going to turn up on my doorstep one day, looking for you?”

It's on the tip of Dean’s tongue to tell the truth, to tell him of course not. But some childish, needy part of him just has to know. Just has to ask. Has to foolishly try to measure Cas’ devotion to him. Like it's a quantifiable amount. “What if I am?”

Cas pushes himself up onto an elbow, his eyes darkening and Dean’s breath sticks in his throat. He's never seen his lover look so intense before. Like he's powering up for a fight. His blue eyes are almost glowing in the semi-darkness.

“Then we’ll deal with them when they come. Whatever happened, it was an accident. You said it, and I believe you. Because you're too good for it to have been anything else, Dean.” Cas’ cool hand comes to touch his cheek. “Whatever happens, I'm here. And I'll fight for you. I'm in your corner. Whatever it takes, whatever I need to do, I'm here and I'll do it. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Dean can't stop the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and he pulls Cas down onto his chest in a crushing hug. For a moment, the swell of emotion in his chest is too great; he can't speak.

“Where were… where were you when I needed you the most?” It's said almost to himself, and Cas whines unhappily in his arms. “When I was desperate for someone, why didn't I know you then? Why weren't you mine back then?”

“Because it wasn't meant to be that way.” Cas is looking up at him with such devotion it's painful to witness. “I was meant to find you now. To help you heal. To ease your pain and to be your anchor.”

“To be my angel…” The words leave Dean’s lips as a whisper, a caress, and Cas nods against his chest. “I'm not on the run, Cas. I wouldn't bring that down upon you and the boys. It all… _happened_. The cops, court…” He breaks off, biting down on a sob. It comes too easy, to not want to talk about it. But really, deep down, he does. He needs Cas to know everything now, needs his support and his absolution. It's time he told him.

*

“It's almost a year ago now, Cas. Fuck, has it been that fucking long? It was all so drawn out that it felt like it went on forever, like the nightmare that wouldn’t end. Whenever one door looked like it was about to open, it would slam in my face and I'd be trapped again. And it still hasn't ended I guess. Don't things like this end when you get closure? I can't see myself ever having that, so I suppose this will go on forever. So much shit went down, man, I don't even know where to start. The main thing I remember about that morning is the weather, which is fucking bizarre and I can't explain it. I didn't even want to go _out_ that day. The weather was crappy, like it had been really hot but rained like a bitch all day and I was just tired and cranky, so I almost bailed on Benny when he suggested going to watch a baseball game. But he had two tickets and I felt bad, so I went. And on the way home, the weather had cleared again and the ground was wet and kinda slippery from the downpour. So I was driving so fucking carefully, Cas. Like ten under the limit, maybe more. I was one street away from my place when it happened, one fucking street. I don't know what else I could have done differently... I go over and over it in my head; I could have left five minutes earlier, or later, or gone a different route. But I guess none of that matters now.

“I didn't even see her until it was too late. She ran out from between some parked cars, chasing her cat across the street and I… I hit the brakes but… But the car skidded, and I couldn't stop in time and… I hit her. I knocked her down.”

Cas tenses in his arms, a low cry of sadness leaving his lips. He clings to Dean a little tighter.

“I don't even know how long it took me to get out of the car, like it could have been seconds or hours, I've no fucking clue. But I just remember her lying there in the road… and Jesus, the blood… it was everywhere, all over her face, her dress, my car… and her mom was just _screaming_ and screaming and people are running over and… I remember kneeling down by her and trying to grab her, trying to convince myself she was OK. But her eyes… she was gone, Cas. Just gone. She was fucking _gone_

“Ambulances came. Cops came. Her mom was distraught and I just… I don't remember feeling anything. Just numb. Shock, I guess. Paramedics pronounced her… dead… dead at the scene and that was when it felt like I'd entered hell.” A pause. A swallow and a low sob, which could have been from either of them. “Couple people saw what happened and were friends with the mom, told the cops I was speeding. I _wasn't,_ Cas, I swear I fucking wasn't. I'm not an irresponsible driver, I'm always so careful. But no matter what I said, there was a little girl lying dead in the road and me, not saying a fucking word to defend myself. So I was cuffed and dragged away, and eventually charged a while later. My friend Benny bailed me out and came to get me, and I could tell then and there than something has changed between us. He didn't mean for it to happen, I know he didn't. But it was like I was broken. Damaged. Had caused too much devastation to remain the person I was.”

“He should have been there for you.” Cas’ voice is fierce, thick with tears. “Right by your side. The whole time.”

“He was. He was there, in body if not in spirit. The press got hold of the story, and of course they sided with the family and I was powerless as they ripped me to shreds.” Dean wipes his eyes pointlessly, as more tears come immediately after. “I couldn't even tell them how sorry I was. How fucking sorry I was. It was on TV, in the papers, on the radio. ‘Reckless driver steals life of six-year-old child.’ It fucking consumed me, Cas. And everyone… everyone pulled away when I needed them the most. I'd call up my friends asking for company when I felt like I was losing my mind, and they'd make excuses so they didn't have to be seen with me. People shouted at me in the streets. Called me names. In the end I lost my job; I couldn't face going in to work and the garage I worked at lost a lot of business because of me. It was only right that I threw in the towel.”

“Dean.” Cas is clinging, trembling. “How did you survive all that? I mean… how could anyone get through that?” He twists to look at him. “Your brother?”

And that's the one thing Dean can't talk about. Not yet. Sammy, who he gave up his childhood and youth to raise, so he could have food on the table and go through college and _be someone_. Sammy, who left him alone when he was at his lowest.

“No. Benny, Bobby… they tried. They really did. They were with me in court, were there when I was acquitted. But something had died between us, and it's not something I ever managed to get back.” Dean buries his face in Cas’ soft hair, inhaling his scent and allowing himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he still has his family. “I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to hurt her. I never meant to hurt anyone. I just didn't fucking see her.”

“I know, baby.” Cas strokes his chest, choked up and barely able to speak. “I know.” He sighs deeply. “You're not a murderer, Dean. You're a good man. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had the wrong people around you. If I'd been with you, I would have raised heaven and hell to get you through it. To protect you.”

“It almost killed me, Cas. Trying to get through it. More than you can imagine. And in the end, I didn't get through it, did I? I ran away, like the coward I am.” More tears seep from Dean’s closed eyes, soaking into the pillow either side of his head.

“No. That’s not what happened, Dean.” Cas presses closer, his voice thick and loaded. “You were meant to come here. Your past brought you to me. It brought you home.”

They lie together in the cool, dark bedroom, daylight seeping under the blinds, both lost in silent thought. Dean hasn't told Cas all the gory details - like his botched suicide attempt, or having things thrown at him - but it's enough for now. Cas knows. And, somehow, a weight that has been dragging him down for months and months feels like it's finally lifting. _Home_. The word is everything he craves and longs for, and everything he's been gifted from the beautiful, kind-hearted, generous Novak family, who accepted him without doubt or question and helped him cement his place among them. And now, now that it's all out in the cold light of day, Cas has gone and assuaged all of Dean’s fears with one word. _Home_.

He has a home.

He has a family.

“You know I love you.” Cas whispers into the silence. “Please know that. No matter what. I love you.”

This isn't the end of things; he knows they have some shit to work through together, but now he also has faith they will make it through together. He has a home. He's loved.


	15. Chapter 15

“Hey, Cas?” He nudges the other man, unsure whether or not he's  asleep. They've been dozing on and off in each other's arms for a while now, and all of a sudden Dean has remembered something and a sickened feeling is stirring in his stomach. “Did I mishear you earlier, or did you say something happened to Lexie?”

 

“You didn't mishear.” Cas sniffles, fidgeting in Dean’s arms. “He was sick earlier on and his temperature spiked. They have him on an IV on medication and fluids, and Jimmy is going to call me later.” His faux-unconcerned tone fools absolutely nobody, and Dean’s heart drops into his stomach. 

 

“Cas!” Dean sits up, dislodging both of them, gripping his boyfriend’s hand and dragging him towards the edge of the bed. “Why didn't you tell me earlier? I mean, tell me properly? We have to go to the hospital!”

 

“Jimmy said…” Cas trails off and rubs his eyes. “Jimmy is there with him. He's OK, they said it's nothing to rush back for, but…”

 

“Cas.” Dean is out of bed and scrambling for clothes, ignoring the dizziness that threatens the corners of his vision. “Your son needs us. We have to go.”

 

“ _You_ need me,” Cas’ voice is so small that Dean almost misses it, and when he looks back at the bed the other man is sitting in the middle of it looking quietly down at his hands, and looks tired and lost and sad. It strikes Dean then that someone always seems to need Cas. Needs his advice, needs his shoulder to cry on, needs him to cook dinner or clean up or entertain them, needs him to read a bedtime story or help with a colouring book, or to be there as a crutch for sudden and decimating mental breakdowns… and in the process, what Cas needs is getting forgotten and pushes aside. Something needs to change, Dean makes a snap resolution. 

 

He shoves away the impending wave of guilt telling him that he stole Cas’ precious time away from his kids, and instead goes over and kneels down by the bed, reaching for his hands. He clasps both of them tightly and waits for Cas to meet his eyes. 

 

“And now Lexie needs you. We have to go back to the hospital and check in on him, then I'll bring you home and you can get some sleep, because that's what _you_ need, all right?”

 

“All right.” 

 

Cas looks like everything is the opposite of all right, but he uncurls and allows Dean to pull him to his feet. For a moment they just stand and hold each other, listening to each other's heartbeats and slow breaths, and Dean realises the storm outside has eased up. 

 

Dean drives to the hospital, tight-lipped and tense, Cas watching him with a guarded expression. It doesn't need to be said that this is the first time Dean has been behind the wheel of a car since the accident; the fact sits heavily between them, and when they arrive Cas leans over to press a kiss to his cheek and whispers, ‘proud of you’ into his ear. The swelling of achievement in his chest is enough to short his breathing. It feels like he's just won the New York Marathon, or something close. He doesn't have a chance to reflect on how kinda pathetic that is, because he's following Cas into the hospital and down the now-familiar halls to Lexie’s room. 

 

“Daddy!” 

 

It's Billie who throws himself at Cas’ legs, and Dean’s expectant, hopeful smile slides off his face as he sees the boy’s twin curled up asleep in bed, looking tired and drawn, Jimmy leaning over and stroking his hair. Cas makes a tight, harsh little sound in the back of his throat and is pushing his brother away to get at his child before anyone can say anything. Dean hoists Billie up onto his hip and listens quietly as Jimmy reassures them that Lexie is fine, has fought off a mild infection like a trooper and he can go home in the morning. Cas sags against the bed in relief, and Dean has to grip the frame of the bed so his legs don't give out beneath him. 

 

*

 

Eighteen months ago, when Dean Winchester pictured his perfect life, he imagined something fairly stereotypical of a good Kansas boy. A sprawling house in a nice suburban neighbourhood, a couple of cute kids, a beautiful wife, and a successful job. His childhood had been so unsettled and complicated, always moving from town to town after his mother died and his father retreated into endless bottles of whiskey, and he craved stability. Wanted all the things that he was told he should want. Money, possessions, family. Maybe a dog, if he could learn to stand the hair. 

 

And the little things. Summertime barbecues, family Thanksgivings, good beer, watching his team lose most games but loving them anyway. Breakfasts in the sun of waffles and bacon, comfortable bedding with fluffy white sheets and the smell of coffee tempting him in the mornings. He pictured waking up next to soft, tanned skin and smiling before even opening his eyes. He pictured happiness. 

 

He wakes slowly, the warm breeze from the open window ghosting over his skin, and turns over automatically, gravitating towards the person behind him. He cracks open his eyes to see the dark honey hue of Cas’ skin stark against the sheets, his arm thrown out towards Dean and a soft smile on his lips as he sleeps. Between them is a dark-haired little boy, curled around two rabbits, and he knows without looking that there's an identical child on Cas’ other side, sprawled out asleep with his thumb in his mouth. The sun is playing over Cas’ face, making his skin glow and highlighting his hair, and he looks unbelievably peaceful. The tense lines around his mouth and eyes seem to have smoothed out in the last few days, and Dean reaches out a hand to brush his knuckles gently over the stubble on Cas’ jaw. His boyfriend turns into the touch, nuzzling, smiling a bit more but still asleep and Dean feels like his heart could beat right out of his chest if he isn't careful. Cas is beautiful like this. Beautiful always, but soft and sweet and relaxed in sleep, he's divine. 

 

Dean extricates himself from the sheets and heads to the bathroom to shower. He runs the water cool, the heat of the summer sun already seeping into the beach house and warming it gently from the outside in. He wants to make breakfast for Cas and the twins, wants the smell of coffee to fill the place and wants plates stacked high with bacon and waffles to tempt them all through into the kitchen. 

 

It works. His family appear only a few minutes after the coffee is ready, all three of them stretching and rubbing their eyes, trading sleepy smiles and kissing and hugging Dean in turn. Cas hasn't brushed his teeth, but Dean doesn't give a damn - he kisses him back gently and slaps his ass, telling him to sit down and wait for breakfast. Dean is on a mission: Operation Take Care of Cas, and in the week following Lexie’s return home from hospital it's been surprisingly easy and even more surprisingly well-received. He watches Cas tuck into his plate, on guard as always for whatever his kids need but today Dean is there first. There with refills of juice, second helpings, and a damp cloth to wipe sticky fingers. 

 

The radiant smile Cas gives him stays with him all day long. 

 

*

 

The days drag on into blissful, endless weeks, and Dean marvels daily about how lucky he is. Every day with Cas is a new adventure, and they spend their time exploring each other and the world around them with fervour and enthusiasm. He falls more and more in love than he ever thought possible. 

 

At the end of summer, Cas whisks him and the children away for a weekend in a cabin, tucked away at the base of a beautiful mountain range a few hours drive from their little beach house, and it's the best vacation Dean can ever remember. They go on a hike, and the kids revel in the freedom of the wilderness, climbing over fallen trees and scaling rocks and paddling in the river. Cas and Dean sit and watch them play, and eventually have to carry them back to the cabin because they're too tired to walk. Lexie drops off in Dean’s arms and only wakes up enough to have a couple of mouthfuls of dinner before dissolving into tears and asking to go to bed. They trade smiles, and Dean puts him down to sleep in one of the squashy twin beds in the second bedroom of the small cabin, and kneels next to him and watches him sleep for a while, until Cas appears with a dozy Billie in his arms. 

 

They make full use of the outdoor hot tub later that night. After two bottles of wine, Cas gives Dean a long, slow blowjob, holding his breath and ducking under the water to spread Dean’s thighs, pull him forward by his hips until his taint and sensitive entrance are settled right over one of the water jets, and goes to town on him using just his wicked mouth and tongue. Every time he comes up for air, Dean writhes from the pleasure of the water and kisses Cas until they're both breathless with need. Eventually, when Dean can't take the onslaught any more, he drags Cas to the surface, shoves him over the edge of the hot tub and eats him out. He spreads him wide with his thumbs and licks into his tight hole until Cas is begging, then he roughly fucks him from behind. Cas pants and moans and cries out as Dean takes him, and it's the most satisfying, downright dirty sex they've had in a long time, the release partly heightened by being in such solitude outdoors and being able to make as much noise as they like. The doors and windows are soundproofed and the kids slept like angels through it all, much to Dean’s relief when he went inside to clean up and check on them. He found Cas lazily finishing the bottle of wine in the hot tub, and soon after he instigated round two. 

 

One weekend, Jimmy babysits the kids while Dean takes Cas to stay over in a hotel in the next town, so they can have a proper romantic date night all to themselves. He books a fancy restaurant, tells Cas to order whatever he wants, and they talk and laugh over dinner like the content, happy couple they are and Dean loves every moment of it. Back in their room, Dean strips Cas slowly and kisses him over and over until they're both moaning and grasping at each other. ‘Fuck me, baby,’ Dean whispers against Cas’ slick lips. ‘Mark me up inside, make me yours.’ Cas spreads him out on the bed and fingers him open then, with a wicked smile, ferrets in his weekend bag for something Dean can't see. When he returns to the bed, Dean’s eyes widen and his lips part in shock and instant curling desire. He groans and gasps and arches back against Cas as a thick, smooth glass dildo is pushed into him, then he holds on to the headboard for dear life as Cas thrusts it inside him until he comes so hard he almost blacks out. After he's recovered, he rides Cas’ cock for what seems like hours, bringing him to the edge and over at exactly the same moment as his second orgasm washes through him. He hopes the walls are soundproofed, because they both cry out louder than they ever have before.

 

He watches, on the edge of sleep, as Cas cleans them up and wanders to the bathroom. He must drop off for a moment or two, because when he opens his eyes again Cas is standing with his arms folded, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching him sleep with a stupidly cute smile at his lips. He's still stripped bare, and Dean allows his eyes to wander over the beautiful body of his boyfriend. Firm chest, toned legs, thick, dark cock hanging deliciously against his thigh, framed by thick dark hair between his legs, which he doesn't bother to ‘maintain’ but Dean fucking loves it. Loves Cas just the way he is, and wouldn't change a single atom of his existence. He watches Cas watch him for a while, then struggles up and out of bed in search of a hug. 

 

“Love you,” he murmurs against Cas’ mouth, feeling the other man’s palms press gently on his chest, massaging. “So sexy, baby. So perfect.”

 

“Huh. Not in the slightest,” Cas smiles at him, his blue eyes soft and affectionate. “But you know how to make a guy feel special.” 

 

“That was the best sex I've ever had.”

 

“You said that last time.” Cas’ eyes sparkle with mirth. “And the time before that.”

 

“Yeah, well, I mean it this time.”

 

“So last time was sub-par?” There's a mischief in Cas’ eyes that makes Dean want to kiss him silly. 

 

“No way. Last time was the best I've ever had.”

 

“Oh, so _this_ _time_ wasn't as great?”

 

“This time was the best as well.” He makes a low sound in his threat akin to a growl and kisses Cas with all the passion he can muster in his exhausted state. “All times with you are the best.”

 

They share a slow, gentle kiss for a moment then Cas breaks away with a rueful sigh. 

 

“What?” Dean tilts his chin up with a finger. “What is it?”

 

“I wish we could have this,” Cas gestures to the small gap between them. “More often.”

 

“What? Naked Friday nights?” Dean kisses him again, rubbing the base of his spine gently. “I'd be up for that.”

 

“No. I mean… ah, never mind. I'd feel awful if I said it.” He moves to head towards the bed but Dean catches his wrist. 

 

“Say it, baby. Go on. It's all right.”

 

“I just…” Cas cards a hand through his hair; his internal battle is playing out in his confused, slightly pained expression. “I love my kids so much, you know? They mean everything to me. But sometimes… I just wish… it could just be us for a while, you know? Just for a few hours.” He glances, fearful, up at Dean. “Does that make me a bad parent?”

 

“What, wanting some alone time with your boyfriend?” Dean wants to laugh but knows it would crush Cas if he did. Instead, he pulls him close and kisses his forehead. “Of course it doesn't. You're an amazing parent, Cas. The best. But you're so much more than just a father, you know? You're valid as a person as well, without the extension of your kids.” He's not sure where these words have sprung from, but as Cas sighs in his arms he continues. “Those kids are wonderful, and they're that way because of you. Because you dedicate your life to them. But I don't want you to lose sight of who you are in the process, you know?”

 

“I feel like I already did,” Cas sighs, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed and Dean joins him. “It's just been me and them for so long now that I've forgotten what it feels like to just be me. Even when Cole was alive, it felt a lot of the time like he just saw me and the kids as one and the same.” Cas picks at a thread on the sheets. “He lost interest in me a bit after we adopted them. This sounds awful, doesn't it? Please don't think he was a bad guy, Dean, because he wasn't. I guess it was me, maybe I just pictured it differently.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dean strokes Cas’ back gently, shifting to sit cross-legend behind him and begin a slow massage of his shoulders and the back of his neck, trying to get him relaxed enough to keep talking. It seems to work after a moment or two. 

 

“We had already decided that I’d stay at home with them, since I'm a writer - _was_ a writer, I haven't written a word in forever so I don't think I can claim the title any more - so it would be easy enough for me to swap my work schedule around. And it was hard, Dean, so fucking hard. Harder than I ever anticipated. We didn't plan on adopting twins, but as soon as we saw them we just fell in love. They were our kids. But I struggled a bit at first, getting used to everything. And then felt bad for being so tired and not interested in Cole when he told me about work or tried to start something up with me when we went to bed. Some days he would work late, and wouldn't see the kids at all and sometimes he would even forget to ask how they were or what we had done that day. And other days he would go straight out again, out with his friends or colleagues, and I’d have to stay home and look after the boys while they slept… I guess…” Dean knows without looking that Cas’ eyes are misting up. He continues to massage his shoulders with gentle, coaxing fingers. “I lost a lot of friends in that first year. The ones with kids were too busy to come over, the ones without kids couldn't understand why I was suddenly so withdrawn and had no real desire to be around two babies when they could be out doing other stuff, and I didn't always have the energy to pack us all up in the car and go out. And the times I did, it just didn't feel the same. It was like they had moved on in some different direction to me, and it was…” Sad. Lonely. Isolating. Dean can think of a hundred words to describe the feeling Cas is intimating, and none of them are good. He shifts and opens his legs, sliding forward until Cas is between his thighs and he's hugging him tightly from behind. Cas’ head drops back onto his shoulder and he sighs deeply. “I'm sorry, Dean. I'm depressing us. I don't know where all this came from.”

 

“Don't say that, Cas. I want to listen.” He kisses the rough stubble of his cheek encouragingly. 

 

“I dunno. I guess it was my fault, that I accidentally let my friends slip away. I just didn't realise, I was too busy trying to build this perfect family for us, then when I turned around they were gone. And when Cole died…” Cas scrubs a hand over his eyes. “I don't really handle stress very well, Dean. You've witnessed that first-hand.” Guilt laces these words, and Dean shushes him quietly. “I pushed people away, I know I did. I just kind of hoped they would come back one day.”

 

“But they never did.”

 

“No. Then I moved away, and that was that. New town, new people, new life. Me and the boys. And I never really got a chance to find out who I was after that because it was just me to look after them. Until Jimmy arrived when they were three; he moved to be near me and I swear I cried for two days when he told me that he was coming. It was like a weight off my shoulders, knowing I would have someone again. And he's amazing, he's always there when I need him, always was. And now,” Cas turns shining eyes on Dean. “So are you.”

 

“So am I,” Dean confirms. “And maybe it's time you got to know yourself again, Cas. Let me and Jimmy take the reins for a while, and you can have some Cas-time.”

 

“I've had more me-time in the last few months than in the last four years combined, Dean. It's fine, I'm happy. The kids start school in a few weeks, so that will make everything different, right? I just wish we had a bit more privacy sometimes, but I guess every parent feels that way.”

 

“Maybe so.” 

 

Dean muses on that thought for a while as they get changed for bed. Cas kisses him sweetly and they chat for a while longer, but soon the other man is asleep and Dean is left staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. 

 

*

 

The first day of kindergarten arrives all too quickly, and Dean watches Cas get through the morning with a brittle smile on his face. He had been fine until now, keeping up a practiced air of breeziness about the whole thing, but this morning the mask has slipped and he's all nerves. He makes them all oatmeal and juice for breakfast, and reads out the list sent to him by the school three times to make sure he's ticked everything off. They had visited the school the week before, so that they could meet Ms Harvelle and so that the kids could see their classroom. Dean had liked it all, Cas had stood silently and just appraised the room with wide, nervy eyes. 

 

“Scissors, crayons, pencils… Do you think they need coloured pencils, Dean? I don't have those, I only have normal ones. Should I have got some?” 

 

“No, sweetheart.” Dean gives him a one-armed hug, distracted by Billie throwing fruit at his brother. “Behave, you two! Cas, everything is fine. They'll be great, you'll see.”

 

The boys are dressed in matching new black jeans (well, new from the thrift store, they had lucked out finding two pairs the same size) and Billie has on a green shirt while Lexie wears yellow, and they both have matching backpacks with them. They look the picture of innocence and cuteness as they blink up at them both, watching as Cas ties and retires their shoelaces, twitchy with nerves. 

 

Lexie insisted on taking both bunnies with him, so they're safely stowed away in his bag - despite Cas’ protests that the teachers will frown upon it - and he wanders over to the car with his head bowed and his lower lip trembling. As Cas locks up the house, Dean scoops the kid up onto his hip and rubs their noses together. 

 

“You OK, kiddo?”

 

Lexie nods, but his words don't match. “Don't want to go.”

 

“Hey, I know it's new and scary. But you'll have the time of your life. You and Billie will have so much fun, I promise. Then later on, you can tell me and daddy all about it while we have all your favourites for dinner. How does that sound?”

 

Lexie ponders the suggestion, playing with the collar of Dean’s jacket. It's too warm to wear his leather, but he put it on anyway as an extra layer of security. There will be a _lot_ of people at kindergarten, moms and dads and guardians and grandparents, and he's more anxious than he's letting on to Cas. The last thing they need is for someone to recognise him and cause a scene. He plans to wait by the car, safely out of sight while Cas does all the necessary things for the kids’ first day. 

 

“Can we have ice cream?”

 

“After dinner, yeah man. Totally. What flavour?”

 

Lexie giggles in his arms. “ _All_ flavours.”

 

“All of them? Really? At once?”

 

“Yes!” More giggles. “And cake!”

 

Damn. For all Cas’ efforts to raise the kids on healthy, organic, clean-eating crap they sure are developing a taste for sugar. Dean finds himself wondering if he can get away with banana loaf and frozen yogurt, and has to shake himself. He is not one for healthy eating. Or, at least, he wasn't, but it occurs to him that he hasn't had a giant greasy pizza or junk-food burgers in forever, and he hasn't even noticed. Hmm. Weird how things change. 

 

“ _And_ cake?” Dean blows a raspberry into the kid’s neck, and Lexie shrieks out a laugh. “I'll see what I can do.”

 

The journey to school is raucous and excitable, with both the boys chattering happily about what they want to do and the friends they want to make, and Dean holds Cas’ hand the entire way. He tries to wait at the car when they get there, but Lexie drags at his hands and says, ‘please daddy, please’ with such wide, desperate eyes that Dean can't help but walk to the front doors with him. There are parents everywhere, a mixture of men and women in various states of nerves and anxiety, kissing their kids goodbye and chatting with the teachers. Lexie clings to Dean’s hand, pressing against his leg and is clearly reluctant to stray far at all. Billie, on the other hand, is the picture of excitement and is already talking animatedly to a little girl with blonde ringlets who is smiling back at him. 

 

Dean has to try very, very hard not to think of Lilith and her mother, and their first day at kindergarten. Luckily, Lexie provides enough of a distraction, winding around his legs and hiding his face whenever anyone tries to speak to him. Eventually, one of the teachers breaks away from the crowd and approaches with a smile on her face. She's blonde and petite, with a sweet smile, and Dean likes her immediately. She introduces herself as Jo Harvelle, and kneels down to talk to Lexie. After a few encouraging words, the small boy takes her outstretched hand and follows her grudgingly towards the other children. When Lexie turns and gives him a sad, scared little wave with one tiny hand and murmurs, ‘bye, daddy’, Dean sucks a breath in through his teeth and wraps his arm around the shoulder of Cas, who has materialised at his side looking equally choked up. 

 

“C’mon. Home time. Only four hours then we can come back and get them and hear all about it.” He kisses Cas’ temple, knowing his lover is finding this almost unbearable. The twins have spent barely any time away from him, and it must be torture for him to have to walk away. 

 

Cas nods mutely, following him to the car but unable to take his eyes off the door where his kids are disappearing into, flanked by excited children and smiling teachers. 

 

*

 

Back in the car Dean can't help but ask the question that's been going round and round in his head for weeks. Cas is distracted, clearly missing the boys already and wishing the day away, but he can't help it. It comes spilling out anyway. 

 

“Does it… Cas, does it bother you that Lexie… calls me daddy?”

 

“What?” Cas’ head whips round, and the car swerves a little on the road, forcing Dean to grip the dash to steady himself. “Shit, sorry. I was miles away then. Of course not, why would you…” He looks at Dean again, and his eyes are soft and curious this time. “Dean. Whether you meant to be or not, you're their father in every way imaginable. You do everything I do for them and more, and they adore you. Hearing Lexie say that to you…” He goes silent for a second, gathering himself up. “I love it. If you're comfortable with it, then so am I.”

 

“I am. Absolutely. But it's only been a few months, Cas. Shouldn't it take longer than this?”

 

Cas shrugs. “Who cares? This is forever, Dean. So why shouldn't forever start now?”

 

They both wear dopey, love-struck smiles for the rest of the journey home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to each and every one of you who leave kudos and comments. I read every single one multiple times, and you all honestly make my days so much brighter ❤❤


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been a few days coming. If you follow me on Tumblr, you may have seen that I ran my first half marathon yesterday, so the last few days have been taken up with training. But today has been spent at my laptop working on a few things, so I had the time to edit this properly ♥

**Hey, Jimmy, it's D. Do you have any copies of Cas’ books I can borrow? Can't find any in the house.**

_You won't. He's shy about them. I've got them all - how many do you want?_

**How many are there?**

_Eighteen._

**Eighteen?! Umm… just one to start with…**

*

“Daddy, daddy!”

It takes Dean a second to pick the dark-haired, ecstatically happy twin out of the group of kids streaming out into the playground. He's standing with Cas by a low wall, Cas chewing his fingernails and Dean shifting from one foot to the other, trying and failing to hide his nerves. Around them, parents chat amongst themselves and it's easy to tell which parents have older children from the lines of their shoulders and how relaxed their smiles are. Dean supposes other kids might have gone to some pre-kindergarten classes, but Cas has always had the boys at home with him, so all this new, uncharted territory is nerve-wracking for him.

And not just for him. Dean is waiting with bated breath for the twins to come out, hoping strongly that they've had a good day and that they've had fun and made friends. Billie he isn't so worried about. The little boy is outgoing and independent and no doubt would make friends easily. But shy, nervous little Lexie? A different story. He would know the boy’s voice anywhere, and as he hears the call of ‘daddy!’ again, he scours the crowd in search of him.

Then he sees him, Lexie’s blue eyes wide and dancing as he runs towards Cas and Dean, backpack in one hand and a few sheets of paper in the other. In a move that shocks them both, Lexie makes a beeline straight for Dean and leaps into his arms like a hyperactive koala bear, all smiles and laughter and bright eyes. He has smears of dried paint on his hands and a streak of it down his nose, and he's grinning widely, showing a row of perfectly straight little white teeth. The sun has brought out his freckles, and Dean kisses him on the nose.

“Well, champ? How was it?”

“Look!” A photo is being waved in his face, an upside-down image of what looks like a stuffed frog, and Dean shifts the boy on his hip until they're both comfortable enough for him to take the photo. It's a clear picture of a soft, fat little green frog with huge amber eyes, sitting on the edge of a desk and smiling widely into the camera. “He's mine! He's my beanie buddie!”

“That's awesome, kiddo.” Dean chances a look at Cas, who is listening intently but simultaneously looking for his other son. “Where's your brother?”

“Inside.” Lexie is playing with the edges of the Polaroid photograph. “With Miss Harvelle. She's my teacher.”

“Is she now? That's good.”

Dean follows Cas as he weaves his way through the crowd of parents collecting their young ones. A few of the moms smile at Dean, and he returns them all with a sudden shyness, sticking close to Cas. He doesn't like crowds, and these days having any eyes on him that aren't familiar does unpleasant things to his stomach. Lexie is wriggling in his arms, trying to get something out of his backpack and Dean shushes him gently, not wanting to quell the kid’s enthusiasm but hoping they can wait until they're all together to start exploring what the kids have done all day.

“Hi, Castiel.” Jo Harvelle’s voice is cool and calm, and she smiles at them both. “And Dean. Lexie, you've been such a good boy today. I bet you can't wait to tell your parents all about it.”

Dean flushes at the word ‘parents’, but can't help the glow inside him. It makes him want to preen a bit, the idea that other people see him as the twins’ parent as well as him and Cas. Then he drops his gaze and sees a tearful Billie holding onto Jo’s hand, looking down at the floor, and his happy glow ebbs away immediately.

“What happened?” Cas kneels down in front of his son, and Jo directs her words to Dean.

“Nothing, don't worry. He just found it tougher than expected. He was fine for the first hour, playing well with a couple of the girls, but when he realised his parents weren't there he started to cry.”

Jo passes Billie’s hand from her own into Cas’; Billie turns wide blue eyes on his father and throws himself at him, burying his face in his neck and sobbing that he missed him and that he wants to go home. Cas gathers him up into his arms and stands, rocking him and kissing his head - as his eyes meet Dean’s it's clear he doesn't know what the fuck to do or say. It's like one of his worst fears have just been confirmed.

“I'm sure he will do much better tomorrow,” Jo is saying, but Dean can tell Cas is seconds away from saying that he wouldn't be bringing Billie back in tomorrow, his possessive nature towards his kids flaring and about to show itself. Shifting Lexie in his arms, Dean reaches over and brushes a stray strand of hair off Billie’s flushed face.

“Hey, kiddo? Tell you what. If you're really brave and come back here tomorrow with Lexie, you can choose what we do at the weekend, how does that sound?” The words spill out before he's even thought about them. _Bribery, really Dean?_ But he soldiers on. “And if you're good for Ms Harvelle then maybe your daddy and I will treat you to something nice. What do you say?”

Billie shrugs, clinging to his father but watching Dean with wary eyes. “Scary.”

“I know it is, kiddo. I remember being scared on my first day too.” It's a fabrication - Dean remembers nothing of his first day at kindergarten. “But I know you can be really brave and come back tomorrow. All the best people come back for day two. Isn't that right, Ms Harvelle?”

She smiles at him warmly and nods her approval. “Absolutely. Billie, tonight why don't you and your brother think of something you'd really like to do tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can make it happen. OK?”

The little boy nods, eyes still fixed on Dean, ignoring his teacher, and after exchanging a few more encouraging words with Jo they head for the car, Billie uncharacteristically quiet and Lexie chattering like a monkey. After they're both strapped into their car seats, Cas grabs Dean by the arm and pins him with an intense, imploring look.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Helping. You always know what to say to them,” Cas sighs wistfully. “And I just _stand_ there, a total mess.”

“Hey,” Dean grips Cas’ shoulders and waits until the sad blue eyes meet his before speaking again. “You are _not_ a mess. You're a brilliant father, Cas. You always know what's best for your boys. Me, I just wing it and sometimes get lucky. But what you do, that's real parenting.”

“No.” Cas brings his hands up to cover Dean’s. “You're a real parent too, Dean. I guess we just do things differently.” He carries on before Dean can interject. “And that's all right. You can be there for them in ways I can't, and vice versa. And… that's OK. It's just… it's something I've ever had, so it might take some getting used to.” Cas is smiling now, in a wistful, thoughtful kind of way. “So just remind me of this conversation if I start being a brat about it. Promise?”

Dean pulls him close, hugging him against his chest and kisses the top of his head. “I promise.”

In the car, Billie comes back to life, chattering and talking over his brother, telling Dean and Cas about the teacher and the other children and his desk. He waves a Polaroid photo at them and Dean takes it; similar to the other one, it's an image of a little toy, a red dragon, similar in size to Lexie’s frog.

“What's this, kiddo?” He passes the picture back and Billie giggles.

“Our buddies! Miss Harvelle gave them to us, we have to look after them at school. Lexie has a frog, and I have a big red dragon that breathes fire!”

“Awesome. What are they both called?”

“Ummm…” Lexie probably has his finger in his mouth, and will be staring out of the window, waiting for the answer to fall into his mouth. It's such a familiar expression that Dean smiles at the mental image and turns around to see if… yep. Lexie is doing just that. “Don't know."

"Well, why don't we try to think up some names over dinner? Maybe your daddy and I can help, hmm?" Cas' voice is warm as he talks to his kids, and it takes Dean a second to realise what he's said. Cas just referred to him as the twins' father...

He can't stop grinning. The stupid smile is plastered on his face the whole way home, all the way through the stories the twins regale them with of their morning at school, and it sticks with him as he prepares dinner while Cas helps the boys write down some names for their new buddies. He almost feels sick with happiness, especially when Billie comes up to him and tugs at his hand for a cuddle; holding the kid on his hip while he makes dinner is beautifully reminiscent of his first ever morning with Cas, of when Cas was the effortless parent looking after Dean. Now, Dean is the one with the child on his hip, one hand stirring a pan full of pasta and one eye on his boyfriend, who is sitting at the breakfast bar watching him cook with a sweet, dreamy smile at his lips.

*

“Cas? Are… are we OK?”

They're doing Dean’s favourite thing: sitting out on the decking at sunset, wrapped up together in blankets and sipping wine. (OK, technically his second favourite thing, since the top spot is taken by an activity involving much fewer clothes.) Cas is lying against his chest, watching the sky explode into riots of colour and dozing sleepily against him, sighing every few moments as he drifts towards sleep.

“What?” He jolts, then sits up with dark, bleary eyes. “Of course, why on earth wouldn't we be?”

“Dunno.” Dean shrugs noncommittally, and Cas rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you do know. Out with it.”

“You just haven't… asked… much, about what I told you, that's all.” He picks at a fingernail. “Dunno why. I'd have a million questions.”

“Just because I haven't asked them, Dean, doesn't mean I don't have questions.” There's an intense, probing look in Cas’ eyes. “But I don't want to push you. I already fucked up and pushed you past your limits; I won't do it again. You deserve better than that.”

“Doesn't mean you can't ask,” Dean collars Cas again and pulls him back down against his chest. “Not gonna freak out or anything. You already know the worst of it all. Little details aren't going to do any more damage.”

“Still. It can't be nice for you to think about, and I don't want to upset you.”

“Well, I'm thinking about it now, so why don't you ask me some of those questions. Get it all out of the way.” Dean doesn't feel half as nonchalant as he sounds, but he's a bit of a believer in ‘fake it til you make it’, and he wants Cas to feel at ease with him. Wants him to be able to talk to him and ask anything on his mind. But still, his heart clenches in his chest as he readies himself for a question he's sure he’ll feel like a blow.

“Don't you miss them? Your family?”

Yep. That hurt.

“No.” _Yes. Every day._

“You do.” Cas twines their fingers together and stares at their clasped hands. “You must do. Why don't you admit to it?”

“Because…” _Because it hurts. It really, really hurts._ “Because… because it hurts, Cas.” There. The words are out, and Cas looks up at him with sad eyes.

“Of course it does. Not just because you miss them, but because they didn't give you the support they should have.”

Fucking _ouch_. Cas sure has a way with stating the obvious. He isn't sure exactly how Cas manages to easily see through every one of his defences, but he may as well not bother putting them up at all these days. What Cas has so succinctly stated it completely true: it hurts in every way to think about his family.

“Don't you ever want to get in touch with them?”

“Yes.” Dean stares off into the sunset. “Every day.”

“So why don't you?” Cas sits up and looks at Dean with intense eyes, the exact stare that makes Dean shiver. “I'll be here to support you, to be whatever you need. They'd be overjoyed to hear from you.”

Dean tries to picture it. The shock in Sam’s voice, likely to be quickly replaced with anger. Benny reacting similarly, trying to understand but not really managing. Bobby… Bobby would likely feel betrayed. And he couldn't bear that.

“I can't, Cas. It's better this way.”

“For whom?” Cas is insistent, clearly not willing to let this go. Dean almost regrets inviting him to ask questions. “For them? I doubt it, Dean. Surely being apart from you and thinking you're gone is destroying them. Even if they're healing, it will still be tearing them up inside.” Cas’ hand, warm and comforting, comes to his forearm. “Believe me. I know.”

Dean knows, too. He knows what he saw in the expression on Sam’s face in that Facebook photo. Peace. Closure. Not agony over his dead brother. He can't admit to Cas that he saw that image, can't admit that he doesn't dare get in touch with anyone because his biggest fear is that they aren't missing him at all. That they're _glad_ he's gone. That, he can never admit.

Cas is still talking. “And it isn't doing you any good either, Dean. Having that weight on your shoulders. Perhaps seeing them again is the closure you all need? Perhaps it will help you heal?”

“I am healed,” Dean mutters to his hands, sensing rather than seeing Cas’ raised eyebrow. _You know. Aside from the nightmares. The panic attacks. The guilt. The inability to go out in public alone._ “Almost.”

“You're doing amazingly well, Dean.” Cas squeezes his arm reassuringly. “Better than I imagine anyone would under the circumstances you've endured. And I'm not going to push it, but if you do want to get back in touch with your family then you have my full support. I'll even help you if you want.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean pulls him back down for a hug, hoping the conversation is coming to a close. He's feeling raw, and just wants cuddles from his boyfriend. He plays gently with Cas’ fingers, and the other man relaxes into him. Maybe he wasn't quite as ready for the twenty-questions thing as he thought he was. “How would I even do it, though? Assuming,” he rushes to clarify before the hopeful look on Cas’ face becomes fixed. “I decide to do it. How would I go about it? A phone call? Text message? Sky-writing? _Facebook?_ Nothing seems right. How would _you_ want to be contacted by some back-from-the-dead loved one?” Shit. Crap. Wrong turn of phrase. Because Cas’ loved one will never come back, no matter how many ways Cas probably pictured it - and possibly still does. He squints, waits for a negative reaction and braces himself to apologise. But Cas just smiles sadly.

“I think… that it wouldn’t really matter in the long run. I don't think there's a proper way to do it. It isn't like there's a manual for this sort of thing, or any rules you have to abide by. I'd say ‘do whatever feels natural’ but I don't think there will be anything natural about this, I think it's something you'll have to force yourself to do. So… I don't know what method is best. Maybe spend some time thinking about it? Whatever you decide, it will be right.”

“I suppose so… Cas, if I ever do contact Sam, I think I'll need it. Your help, I mean. I'm afraid that he’ll…” _Reject me. Belittle me. Be disappointed to hear from me. Have forgotten me._ “I'm afraid that things will never be the same.”

“They might not.” Ouch. More sugar-coating needed. “But that doesn't mean you can't still have a good relationship. Sometimes time apart can help heal wounds you never knew existed.” Cas sounds wistful, thoughtful, and Dean wonders if he's talking about Cole somehow. Or maybe a feud he had with Jimmy in the past, although he can't ever imagine the Novak twins fighting too badly. They seem to be devoted to each other.

They sit quietly for a while, watching the sunset, before Dean thinks it's his turn to ask a few questions of his own.

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

Dean pulls him closer, snuggling. “What's your star sign?”

“Libra. What's yours?”

“Aquarius. I wonder if we’re compatible. Do you believe in that stuff?”

“I kinda do.” Cas smiles, and Dean really isn't surprised to learn that. He loves learning new things about Cas; he could sit and listen to him talk all day long. “I'd have to look it up, but I think those two signs are pretty strong together.”

“Mmm, good. I like the sound of that. Even the stars think we should be together.” Dean laughs as Cas elbows him in the ribs for being such a sappy dork. “Hey, that means your birthday is coming up soon, right?”

“Mhmm.” Cas shifts and looks up at him. “We only celebrate for Jimmy, though. I'm not into birthdays.” The unsaid tragedy of the twins’ fifth birthday silences them for a moment.

“Well, maybe I can make this one special for you.” He kisses Cas on the nose and they both smile; Dean watches the sun finally go down behind the waves, before realising Cas is still watching him.

“OK, last question.” Dean’s mind is on Cas’ birthday, and on what he can do to make it memorable and enjoyable. “What's your favourite thing to do?”

He's sure he could guess this one. Going running on the beach, colouring books with his kids, playing at the park in town, reading books, writing… Cas is quiet for a moment, watching him with a shy, secretive smile at his lips.

Then, spoken like a caress, “Count your freckles.”

*

“Dean?”

 _Shit._ Dean drops the book in his hands and hastily scrambles for a blanket to cover it with. Luckily he's sitting out on the decking so it doesn't look out of place being swathed in Cas’ threadbare old knitted rug; all the same, he's on the receiving end of a strange look.

“You OK?”

“Yeah! I'm awesome.” Too enthusiastic. It looks like he's trying to hide something. Which he is… “I'm good, I mean. What do you want?” _Shit. That came out wrong. Dean, you're awful at keeping secrets_. “I mean. What's up?”

“Dinner is ready.”

Cas fixes him with a curious, probing look that leaves Dean under no illusions - Cas knows he's hiding something. But true to form, Cas doesn't pry and disappears back into the house to sort the children out and Dean follows at a slower pace.

He makes a detour down the hall under the pretence of throwing on a sweater, and when he's safe in their bedroom he drags his rucksack out and stashes the book inside it. The novel peeks out at him as he zips it up, and he can't help but smile as he thinks about how talented his lover is; he's a third of the way into Cas’ first novel and he's completely hooked. He isn't sure yet why he's keeping it a secret from Cas that he's reading one of his books, and plans to read the rest - even if it takes him months. From the few things Cas has said recently, Dean has translated it to mean that Cas misses his work. He misses writing, misses the part of him that identified as more than just a parent and a partner. And Dean hopes that with some encouragement he can help Cas reignite his passion for his craft.

He’s looking forward to the hour after dinner when Cas gets the kids ready for bed, reads them a story then heads for a shower. It means he will have some precious alone time to dig further into _Lazarus_ _Rising_ , by C.J Novak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't pretend to be an expert on the zodiacs, but [this link](http://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/compatibility/aquarius-libra/) has some interesting things to say about Aquarius' compatibility with Libra, if anyone is interested ♥


	17. Chapter 17

The next few days at kindergarten go a lot better. Billie enjoys it more and isn't quite as tearful when Dean and Cas arrive to pick them up at the end of the day. The fourth day is even better, and by day five there are no tears at all. Billie comes running out with sparkling eyes, followed by Lexie who is holding the hand of a pretty blonde girl who Dean has learned is named Claire. She seems to be Lexie’s new friend, and all he's heard for three days straight is, ‘Claire said this’ and ‘Claire said that’ and ‘that's what Claire likes’. It's endearing and adorable to watch them make friends, although Dean does tend to feel a little choked up at the thought of the boys growing up. He wants them to stay at this age forever: sweet, loving, innocent, and too cute for words. He can barely imagine how Cas must feel.

A week passes, then a second, and by the third it seems like the boys have settled into school well and are enjoying themselves. They come home every day with drawings to give to Dean and Cas, and they've learned to write their names and their address. They've named their toy buddies as well: Billie chose Raar for his dragon, and Lexie called his frog Splat. Both the names made Cas laugh so much that the boys piled on top of him with giggles and squeals of ‘Splat’ and ‘Raar’, and Dean grabbed Cas’ cell phone and videoed them falling about in a giant pile of limbs and laughter. By week four, the boys are excited to get up in the mornings and look forward to their next day at school so much that they go to bed on time and fall asleep right away because they know that sleeping means the next day will come quicker. The result is a happy and relieved Cas, and the freedom for him and Dean to enjoy some alone time during the day. Cas reads, goes running, and cooks and bakes elaborate meals for them all to enjoy in the evenings. He has the glow back in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. Dean hunts for jobs, and consistently avoids Cas’ probing glances which very clearly say, ‘when are you calling Sam?’ Dean always responds with a smile and presses a kiss to Cas’ lips and chides him gently for pushing.

“I _will,_ Cas. I'm sure I will. I just need time.”

“Mmm.” Cas’ response is always the same, bland and noncommittal, but he leaves Dean to it with a wry smile.

*

“Babe? Guess what?” One morning, Dean walks into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face and wraps his arms around Cas from behind, kissing his neck and nibbling at his ear. Cas grins and wriggles, twisting in Dean’s embrace to look at him. He wipes his wet hands on a dishtowel and tosses it away, waiting expectantly.

“What?”

“I. Have.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss to either side of Cas’ mouth, then along his jaw. “A. Job. Interview.” The final kiss goes on the tip of his nose, and Cas lights up in excitement.

“Really? _When_? Where?”

“Tomorrow. It's at Meg’s place, you know the bakery downtown?”

“Amazing.” Cas kisses him. “Meg is amazing, so is Gabriel. They'll love you. You just have to promise to bring treats home for me and the boys occasionally, all right?”

“Occasionally? Hell, I'll be bringing you treats every day to celebrate if I get this job. It's just working behind the counter and tending to the tables, nothing exciting or taxing. I don't know how to bake, so I won't be much help there. But,” Dean shrugs and can't keep the smile from creeping up to his lips. “I think I'd kinda love it.”

“I _know_ you'd love it. And I think I’d love you coming home smelling delicious every day. More delicious than you already do…” Cas kisses him, his arms coming up to wrap around Dean’s neck, and his lips parting to deepen the kiss. They stay like that for long moments, lazily exploring each other's mouths, until Dean slides his hands down under Cas’ thighs and lifts him up to sit him on the kitchen worktop. Immediately, strong thighs wrap around his waist and pull him close. Eager, insistent hands come to work at the buttons of his shirt, and it's pushed off his shoulders as Cas attacks his neck with nips and licks, sucking a mark onto Dean’s collarbone that he knows will stain a deep red. He finds the hem of Cas’ shirt and tugs it up and over his head, tossing it away and hungrily exploring the planes of his boyfriend’s chest with his hands. Cas is even more tanned than before, thanks to his shirtless runs down the beach, and his abs are beautifully defined. Dean thumbs his nipples gently, then with more force as Cas gasps and lets out a low moan through clenched teeth.

“Feels good… do that again…”

Dean obeys, this time working Cas’ nipples until they're hard, then he leans down and licks slowly around the left one while still teasing the right. Cas hisses, then gasps as Dean bites him gently.

“ _Fuck!_ Dean!”

“You like that, baby?” He asks, already knowing the answer. His voice is low, sweet like melting caramel, and Cas groans out an affirmative. “I didn’t know you liked being bitten. I’ll have to do this more often…” He repeats the motion on the other nipple and Cas whines, arching against his mouth. Dean releases him, then straightens up and strips his t-shirt off, throwing it aside and cups his boyfriend’s jaw to kiss him deeply.

“Bedroom?” Cas pants against his lips and Dean shakes his head.

“Nope. Want you right here, right now.” He tugs at Cas’ thighs, pulling him down off the worktop them spins him around with such speed that the other man laughs in surprise - that laugh turns into a moan when Dean nips the back of his neck and reaches around to tug at his nipples. He presses the length of his body against his boyfriend’s back, rocking his hips against Cas’ ass, and they both moan lowly, already excited for what’s coming.

“I love you,” Dean breathes, dropping his hands from Cas’ chest to the fastenings of his jeans, tugging the button loose and starting to drag the zipper down. Cas’ breathing hitches and he bends forward over the counter, pushing his hips towards Dean in invitation. But at that precise moment, Cas’ cell phone rings loudly, cutting through the heat building between them and making them both jolt. Dean groans in frustration and Cas echoes him.

“Ignore it…” He mouths at Cas’ neck and is dismayed to be nudged away.

“Let me just see who it is…” Cas scrabbles across the surface for the phone. “Then I’m all yours… Oh.” Cas’ tone changes and he shrugs out of Dean’s arms, a frown coming down across his face.

“Cas? What’s…?”

“Hello?” Cas has swiped across the screen of his phone, cracked from one of the boys dropping it on the tiled floor, and answered the call without so much as a backwards glance at Dean. It should sting, but it doesn’t. Whatever it is has to be important for Cas’ demeanour to change so suddenly. “You what? He’s… Is he all right? Jesus!” Whoever is on the end of the line is saying something clearly upsetting, and Cas rakes his hand through his hair in distress. Sobered and alert, Dean scoops their t-shirts up off the floor and waits for clarification. Cas’ eyes have darkened with concern and some of the colour has drained from his cheeks. “OK… OK… Yeah. We’ll be right there. Half an hour. OK. Bye.”

“Cas?” Dean comes up behind him and rests his chin on his shoulder, sliding his arms around his waist in a way that he hopes is comforting. “What’s wrong, what’s happened?”

“It’s Lexie.” Cas closes his eyes and presses the back of the hand holding the phone to his forehead. “He’s fallen and hit his head. He’s OK, he’s fine. But… the teacher said she needed to talk to us about how it happened.” He twists in Dean’s arms with wide eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know, babe.” Dean hands him his t-shirt, helps him slide it over his arms and tugs it down for him. “But let’s get to the school and find out. Don’t worry.” He kisses Cas on the forehead. “Everything will be fine.”

*

“Lexie?”

“Daddy!”

The little boy runs to his father and Cas kneels, wrapping him in a bear hug and holding a hand to the back of his head as small sobs and sniffles reach Dean’s ears. He shakes Jo Harvelle’s hand, not missing the grave smile she gives him and waits for Cas to scoop Billie up into his arms and take a seat next to him in the teacher’s office. Jo perches on the edge of the desk and watches Cas brush his son’s hair back from his face to take a look at the cut on his forehead. It isn’t deep, but it looks sore and the edges are tinged dark with bruising, the skin held together with a butterfly bandage. There’s a cut on Lexie’s lip too, and Dean shivers at the sight.

When he speaks, Cas’ voice is low and bordering on dangerous. “What the hell happened to my son?”

Dean reaches over and squeezes his knee, and Cas’ hand comes down on the top of his, gripping back tightly. Lexie is resting his head on his father’s shoulder now, a little green frog clutched to his chest, and he’s watching Dean with wide, wet blue eyes.

“Castiel. I understand that you’re upset. And this isn’t an easy thing to have to tell you,” Jo sighs, lacing her hands together. “He was sitting with Claire, colouring in, and behaving very nicely. He…”

“Get to the point. What happened? Did he fall over, or did someone push him? Because if they did…”

“Castiel.” Jo’s voice is sharper, and Cas quietens. “Please let me explain. “He was sitting with Claire, and Billie came over and asked him to play with him instead, and Lexie said no. He wanted to keep on colouring in with Claire and didn’t want to go and play with Billie in the sandpit outside. Billie…”

Dean’s breath hitches in his chest at the same time as Cas’ grip tightens painfully on his fingers. He’s suddenly certain he knows what’s coming, and hopes fervently that he’s wrong.

“Billie shouted at him, picked up the colouring book they were working on and threw it at Lexie. Then he pushed him out of his chair onto the ground, and that’s when he banged his head on the next table.”

“No. No, you’re wrong, he wouldn’t… Billie…” Cas trails off and falls silent, and his face loses some more of its colour. “You're saying Billie hurt Lexie _on purpose_?” It doesn't look like Cas can believe what he's hearing. “He would _never_ do that! Ever! Lexie,” he addresses his son, who whines and tries to cuddle back into his chest again. “What happened? Tell me who did this.”

“Cas…” Dean’s mouth is dry and it comes out as a rasp. “Don't…”

“Billie wouldn't. He _couldn't._ He wouldn't hurt his brother, I know he wouldn't…”

“Castiel.” Jo’s tones are soothing now, and Cas freezes, gazing at her with wide eyes. “I know it's a shock. The boys seem to have a wonderful relationship. And I'm sure it's just a one-time thing. But we wanted you to know right away.”

“Where's Billie now?” Dean has reached over to squeeze Lexie’s hand; the little boy continues to watch him, then reaches out for him and wriggles in his father’s arms, wanting Dean. He scuttles across the gap between the two men and clambers up into Dean’s lap, cuddling close like a koala bear, and buries his face in Dean’s neck. He's still clutching the little green frog. Dean rubs his back and kisses the top of his head, listening intently as Jo tells Castiel again how the incident occurred, and advises that she has Billie sitting with one of the TAs in time-out while the waited for him to get here. She gets up a moment later and leaves the room to fetch him, and Castiel turns to Dean with a mixture of horror and anger twisting his face.

“Can you believe this happened? I just… why would Billie…”

“Hey. Sweetheart.” Dean takes his hand, feeling Lexie burrow closer, concerned he's about to be put down. Dean kisses his head again and rests his chin on the top of the dark hair. “Things will be fine. Like Jo said, I'm sure it was just a one-off, and Billie can explain himself.”

“I fuckin’ hope so.” Cas buries his face in his hands and Lexie sits up, shocked at his language and says, ‘naughty, daddy!’ “Sorry, baby. Daddy is a bit stressed out right now. Close your ears.”

“I _can’t_ close my ears! Daddy, you’re silly.” Lexie giggles, cheered up and clearly no worse for wear after his incident in the classroom, but Dean can’t shake the tense feeling in the pit of his stomach at what’s to come when Cas lays eyes on his other son.

Billie stares stubbornly at the floor when he walks in, his hand held tightly by Jo Harvelle, and Cas doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he stands up and says, “I think it’s time to go home. We need to sort this out in private.”

Dean takes the boys out to the car while Cas speaks to Jo; neither of the twins speaks a word as he straps them into their car seats and he doesn’t speak to them. When Cas finally comes out of the school his expression is thunderous, and Dean feels a jolt of desire mixed with concern at the cut of his shoulders beneath his threadbare sweater and the intensity in his eye's never seenr see Cas like this, but then again he’s never known the boys to have a single cross word with each other let alone pushing each other about, so it’s no wonder he’s angry.

The car door slams so loudly that they all jump, and Cas drives them home in silence.

*

“Now.” Cas deposits the twins’ backpacks on the sofa and turns to his sons, arms folded and a frown gracing his handsome face. “I want to know _exactly_ what happened at school today, and why. Billie, did you push your brother?”

“No.” Billie’s jaw juts out and he folds his arms in a perfect mimic of his father.

“You did!” Lexie’s blue eyes fill with tears and he backs into Dean’s legs. “You did!”

“I _didn’t_!”

“Did!”

“ _Enough_!” Cas barks, and the boys go silent and stare up at him nervously. “William, why did you push your brother? And don’t you dare lie to me.” Billie doesn’t say anything, he just stares at the floor and kicks uselessly at the edge of one of the tables. “Stop that, and answer me.”

“I wanted to play with him,” Billie’s tone is sulky and petulant, and Dean is sure he has his bottom lip sticking out. Lexie tugs at his jeans, and Dean scoops him up for a hug. “And he wouldn’t play with me.”

“Well, Lexie was playing with Claire. You should have waited.”

“ _No_.” This time it sounds more sad than angry. “ _I_ wanted to play with him. He’s _my_ brother!”

“Billie, it’s OK for Lexie to play with the other children.” Cas brushes his son’s hair out of his face, his eyes softening as he looks at the boy. “You should be doing that too. Making some friends. I thought you were enjoying school? I thought you liked the other children?”

“I don’t.” Billie folds his arms and glares at his father, then turns his scowl on Lexie. “They’re stupid.”

“Billie! That’s rude, don’t say that. They aren’t stupid. They’re very nice, and you should be making friends with them.”

“They _are_ stupid!” Wide, tear-filled blue eyes stare up at Castiel, and Billie’s little cheeks are flushing as he starts to get worked up. “ _You're_ stupid!”

“Don't you dare say things like that! Where did you learn this? Billie - don't! Don't hit me, stop it!” The little boy is now raining tiny punches down on Cas’ thighs, and even though they hold no real weight Dean can tell Cas is hurting. He doesn’t know what to do, how to intervene. Lexie is burrowing closer in his arms, covering his ears as his twin starts to cry. Cas grips Billie by the shoulder and holds him at arms length, trying to stop the onslaught. “ _Where_ has this come from, I can't _understand_ -”

“I hate you! I _hate_ you!” Billie screams up at his father, red-cheeked and sobbing, then descends into tears and sits down in the middle of the floor and covers his face with his hands.

*

“ _William_ _Novak_!”

A thunderous voice sounds from the hallway and Dean, Lexie and Billie all jump then freeze in shock. Cas, however, steps away from his tearful, furious child and wraps an arm around Jimmy in an exhausted, desperate half-hug as Jimmy comes striding into the room looking livid. Cas must have text him at some point, asking him to come over, and Dean is grateful for the support. Jimmy gives Cas a courtesy pat on the shoulder then squats down, taking Billie by the upper arm and forcing him to look up at him.

“What on earth is going on? Why did you just say that to your father?”

Billie just cries harder, shaking his head, his cheeks flushed and wet and his breath comes in painful hitches. Slowly, something in Jimmy’s expression softens. He stands up, gently pulling Billie to his feet, then grips him under his arms and lifts him up onto his hip. Billie clings like a limpet and won't stop crying. Cas, appalled and looking on the verge of angry tears himself, steps forward.

“Jimmy, I don't know what you think you're-”

“Billie and I are going outside for a moment, to get some fresh air. Aren't we?” The child in Jimmy’s arms shrugs his shoulders and sobs again, burying his face in his uncle’s neck. “You take five and calm down. We’ll be back in a minute.”

He disappears out onto the decking with a crying Billie in his arms, and Cas collapses down onto the sofa, warily watching them go. Dean shifts Lexie on his hip and carries him down the corridor, depositing him in his room and handing him the little green frog he had brought home from kindergarten by mistake. The boy looks up at him with sad eyes, and Dean ruffles his hair to try and comfort him.

“Do me a favour, kiddo? Can you be a good boy and play in your room for ten minutes while Cas and I talk to Billie? Then maybe you, me, and Uncle Jimmy can go to the beach. Does that sound cool?”

Lexie nods, and Dean leaves him to play with his toys, closing the door on the kid with a smile. He’s already busy with introducing Splat to his two bunnies, and Dean’s heart leaps at the sight. The kid is way too freakin’ cute.

“You OK?” Dean sits down next to Cas and wraps an arm around him, feeling rather than hearing the full-body sigh that wracks his boyfriend.

“Yeah. I dunno. Maybe? I never expected this.”

“I know. School is hard, though. They’ll get through this and be fine, wait and see.”

“Jimmy and I never fought. Not like that.”

“Really?” Dean raises a skeptical eyebrow and Cas glares in outrage. “Well, Sam and I did. Once or twice. We loved each other to bits, but damn the kid was irritating. Followed me around like a stray puppy and wanted to hang out with me and my friends instead of making his own.” He kisses Cas on the forehead. “We were just kids being kids. But in hindsight, it must have been a battle for my dad. Or not… he wasn’t exactly interested in us as kids. Don’t worry, Cas. The boys will work it out. Look,” He points out onto the decking where Billie is sitting in Jimmy’s lap and listening intently to something his uncle is saying. “Progress.”

“He said he hates me.” Cas’ voice is raw with pain. “He hates me…”

“No.” Dean grips Cas by the shoulders and turns him so they’re looking directly into each other’s eyes. “He does not. He’s angry for whatever reason, and upset, and he lashed out. He doesn’t hate you, don’t ever think that for one second.”

“But he said…”

“I know what he said.” Dean is quiet for a moment, thinking. “We’ve both said things to each other that we regret in anger, right?” Cas nods, colouring. “That’s what he did. He’s a kid, Cas, he doesn’t know the true meaning of that word, he only knows it would hurt you. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but we’ll find out. And everything will be fine. Trust me?”

“Yeah,” Cas sags against his chest, sighing. “I guess.” He scrubs a hand over his hot face. “Parenting is hard.”

“Yup. It is.” Dean kisses his temple. The door slides open and Jimmy walks back in with Billie in tow. “You’re lucky you’re good at it.”

“Huh. Dunno about that. I'm no good at it without you.” Cas sits forward, extending a hand towards his son, and Billie stares at him for a moment with his lower lip trembling, then runs full-pelt at his father and throws himself into his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. Don’t cry. Shh.”

Jimmy takes a seat on the comfy armchair opposite Dean and Cas, and watches for a moment as Billie snuggles into his father’s arms. A small, quiet, ‘sorry, daddy’ spills from the boy’s lips and Cas hugs him tighter, murmuring words of comfort into his hair.

“Billie and I had a little chat.” Jimmy says quietly, and Cas rests his chin on his son’s head to listen to his brother. “He’s sorry he hurt Lexie, and he didn’t mean to. I’ve asked him to apologise and he will do.”

“But why did he…” Cas falls silent at a look from Jimmy, one that Dean recognises all too well from seeing it cross Cas’ face when he’s irritated. He feels a bit out of place in the conversation, but getting up to leave doesn’t seem like the most productive thing to do, and it would only draw attention to him instead of to the situation. He sits quietly and listens.

“I think a lot has changed over the last few months, and Billie is just struggling to adjust to it all. This isn’t a reflection on you, Dean, by any means and I don’t want you to take it like it is,” Jimmy smiles reassuringly at Dean, but the knot in his stomach tightens. “For most of their lives, it’s just been the three of you, Cas. And me, but mainly you and the boys. All of a sudden, there’s someone else in the house and it’s new and different. Your attention is split between Dean and them. That will have taken some getting used to. Lexie got hurt and had to go to hospital, and that will have been a big fright to both of them. And now kindergarten, which is the biggest change of all. I think we all expected Lexie to be the one who struggled with it; at least, I did. I just assumed since Billie was the confident one that he would fit in seamlessly. But now that Lexie has made a friend, I think Billie feels a bit left out, and that’s what’s making him act out.” Jimmy pauses, and Cas lets out a sad sigh. “Is that right, Billie? You just feel a bit funny about everything changing?”

The boy nods against his dad’s chest and clings a bit tighter. Dean wants to speak, his knee-jerk reaction to apologise for the part he’s played in disrupting the lives of Cas and the children, but Cas’ hand finds his knee and squeezes and he’s somewhat calmed. From down the hall, there’s the sound of a door clicking open and a moment later Lexie appears in the hallway with an armful of toys, wearing a frown. Without a word, he walks up to the sofa and extracts a grey elephant from his pile and hands it to his twin. Billie takes it and Lexie smiles at him.

“Bunny wants to play outside. He wants you to come.”

“OK.” Sniffling, Billie untangles himself from his father and slides down, reaching for his twin’s hand and the adults watch as they make their way to the screen door and out onto the decking. As they sit down and start playing with the stuffed toys, Cas lets out a low sigh, followed by a long, drawn-out, ‘fuck’.

“Don’t worry, little brother.” Jimmy reaches over and claps him gently on the knee. “I think he’ll be fine. But maybe,” A furtive glance is cast in Dean’s direction. “Some time just you and the kids would be good, maybe a day out or something. If Dean is OK with that.”

“Of course,” Guilt gnaws a little at Dean’s stomach but he pushes it away. “Well, I have a job interview tomorrow, so maybe that would be good? Spend some time just you guys?”

“Yes,” Cas brightens as Dean mentions the interview. “I forgot all about it Dean, I’m so sorry. We could drive you into town and pick you up afterwards, and I can take the kids to the library or for a swimming lesson.”

“Sounds good, Cas.” Dean kisses him, not missing Jimmy’s smile. Outside, Billie reaches over and hugs Lexie, and the sound of their laughter drifts in through the open door.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm posting two chapters very close together, but only because I love you all and you're awesome :)

Dean’s nerves almost get the better of him at his interview the next day. Almost. But his determination to prove to Cas that he can be useful and competent and can contribute financially to the family home overrides his worries, and soon he's walking out of Meg’s office, shaking hands with Gabriel and agreeing that he will start at eight AM the following Monday. Meg gives him a warm smile and a pat on the back, and he leaves the deliciously sweet-smelling bakery feeling buoyed and more confident in himself than he has in a long time, and waits until he's safely out of sight round the corner to fist-pump the air in celebration. Unemployment has taken more of a toll on his self-esteem than he ever imagined, and he's looking forward to getting up in the morning with a new purpose, a fresh goal and new experiences to look forward to. Excited to wait tables and serve coffee. The thought brings a smile to his lips as he wanders down the street to the library. And he hopes that with Cas left to his own devices in the house that he might start writing again. He's almost finished _Lazarus Rising_ and has already asked Jimmy to bring Cas’ second book over next time he visits. Cas is really fucking talented, and that talent shouldn't be hidden away. And now that Cas will have some space with Dean at work and the kids at school, maybe his mojo will return to him.

Dean had slept the night before for only an hour, maybe two, constantly tossing and turning, worrying about the interview and fighting an internal battle about the twins and his influence on their lives. The demon on his shoulder was berating him, telling him to just look at the tiny twins and all the damage he's caused by crashing unannounced into their lives, whispering vile suggestions that they would be better off if he left and gave them their space back. The angel on his other shoulder violently rebuffed such suggestions, reminding him how much Cas loves him and that this is just a blip on the radar and likely would have happened anyway, in some other fashion. The angel tells him he's a wonderful parent and that the kids would be lost without him. He feels just as guilty as Cas does when he thinks about Billie’s kindergarten experience, that they hadn't realised that he was struggling. But, as Jimmy reassured them, this has all happened early on and they have plenty of time to fix things. Jimmy opinion is valid to them both, since not only is he the boys’ uncle but he's a teacher himself and has dealt with many an issue between siblings in the past.

Dean got up a few times in the night to get a drink or check the kids or just wander aimlessly to the living room to sit and watch the ocean outside. He was afraid his tossing and turning would wake Cas, and that would mean that infernal _talking_ thing that Cas is so keen on. Talking about his feelings is getting easier, but he still isn't a big fan. It's easier to push everything to the back of his mind and forget, but the logical part of his brain knows it isn't healthy. So he allows Cas to force him to talk, to draw his feelings out of him normally over a glass of wine in the evenings when Dean is relaxed and content with an armful of a very cuddly boyfriend. He wonders if Cas will chide him to talk about how he feels about what happened with Billie; he kinda hopes he does. He wants to talk about it because guilt and dismay are wrapping themselves around his heart and he keeps being struck with little bursts of panic. The devil on his shoulder is winning. Doubly so when he thinks of his own childhood with Sam, and that's a thread he doesn't dare tug on, not at the moment. All desire to contact his brother has receded in the wake of Billie’s outburst, and he wants to get things with his new family under control before he even considers throwing Sam into the mix too. The twins need some stability and order back in their lives, and Dean will do whatever it takes to get there. If it means stepping back, then so be it - no matter how much it stings and leaves him feeling like he should run. He grounds himself against those feelings; he isn't as skittish as he was when he met Cas. Cas has helped him realise his place.

But OK, maybe he's still a little skittish.

He wanders back down the ha to bed, but gets distracted just standing in the doorway staring at Cas. He's shifted in his sleep, turned onto his side facing the empty area where Dean sleeps, and one arm is cast out as though reaching for him. He's frowning, lost in his dreams, and Dean hastens to pull back the covers and climb in, taking Cas in his arms and hugging him close. He can do this. He can ace the interview, get the job, he the father figure the children need and be the partner Cas deserves. He might just need Cas to hold his hand for a little while longer.

“I love you,” he whispers into the thick, dark hair as Cas nuzzles his chest in his sleep and sighs contentedly. “Thank you for loving me. I hope I can be what you all need.”

With Cas in his arms, sleep comes eventually.

*

The morning of his first day at work dawns bright, early, and beautiful. Dean yawns and stretches, turning the clock to he can check the time and is pleased to see it's just after five AM. He turns to the other side and takes in the delicious sight of a naked Cas lying spread out on his stomach, head turned away, dark tan stark against the white sheets. He leans over and presses gentle kisses to the exposed side of Cas’ throat and runs soft fingers down his spine. He has a very definite idea of what he would like to do before going to work…

“Baby?” Dean kisses the bolt of Cas’ jaw. “Time to wake up.”

“Mmm, no, ‘s too early…”

Cas rubs his closed eyes and shifts, trying to nudge Dean off him. The sheets slip further down on his waist, revealing the dimples in his back and the cut of his hip bones and Dean traces the lines with a fingertip, stopping just before the dip of Cas’ crack. Beneath him, he hears a low sigh and he's sure Cas parts his legs just a little.

“Really? I think it's the perfect time to wake up…” More kisses, all along Cas’ jaw then down his neck and across his shoulders. Cas inclines his head a little, and Dean takes it as a green light, kneeling up and reaching over to massage Cas’ shoulders. The pleased little moan he receives in response is all the confirmation he needs, and he starts slowly working down Cas’ back, stroking and caressing his muscles and working his fingers into the knots at Cas’ spine and following the touches with gentle kisses. “How about you… turn over… and I'll show you just how much I missed you while you were asleep…”

“Mmm, you smooth bastard.” There's a grin in Cas’ voice but he obeys, shifting and moving to lie on his back and parting his legs in invitation. “I wonder what you could possibly want…”

“You…” Dean licks a trail down his abs and pushes the sheets out of the way to expose Cas’ groin. “Inside me…”

Cas’ cock is hardening steadily, thickening at the base and growing full with arousal against his thigh. Dean’s mouth waters at the sight of it, and he's all too eager to shift to lie down between Cas’ legs and push his thighs up and apart to expose the intimate area between his legs. He wants to suck him, wants to feel throat his cock and feel the dark hair at Cas’ groin against his lips as he takes him deep. Wants to taste his precome and feel him, heavy and thick, on his tongue.

He sucks Cas slowly, drawing groans and gasps from his lips and enjoys every second of having his mouth wrapped around his lover’s cock. With one hand he cradled Cas’ balls and massages them gently, and with the other he swipes his thumb over the tight entrance between Cas’ cheeks, teasing and tempting him until his boyfriend is writhing with need beneath him. A low whine leaves Cas, then suddenly he's pushing Dean away and onto his back, leaning down to kiss him and dragging at his hips until he's between Dean’s legs, eager and wanting and ready to return the favour.

“Want to taste you, Dean. Want you so badly…”

Dean relaxes back against the pillows and moans low in his throat as Castiel spreads his thighs apart and goes to town. He starts by nuzzling at Dean’s balls with his lips and caressing them with his tongue, taking them into his mouth one after the other to gently suck and lave at them, the sensation causing pleasure to curl deep in Dean’s pelvis. He licks a hot stripe up the shaft of Dean’s aching cock and looks up with dark, mischievous eyes before sucking gently on the leaking tip and wringing a deep groan from Dean’s lips.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Suck me. Your mouth is incredible…”

And Cas complies. He takes Dean in slowly, deeply, hot mouth hot and wet and beautiful, and it's fucking _heaven_. He relaxes back into the sheets as Cas settles in to give him a long, slow blowjob, and Dean thinks this is the _perfect_ start to any morning. He can still taste Cas’ precome on his tongue, and his cock twitches in Cas’ mouth at the thought of fucking his beautiful boyfriend and making him moan. He closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Cas licking and sucking him, loving the enthusiastic sounds coming from between his thighs as pleasure gently washes over him.

He reaches down and runs a hand through Cas’ hair, about to pull him up and off him and reach for the lube to finger him open when their gentle intimacy is brought to a sudden and immediate halt.

With a loud bang, the bedroom door slams open and Dean’s whole body jerks in shock. The shriek of, ‘daddy, it's morning!’ thankfully covers up the coughing and retching sounds coming from Cas as he chokes on Dean’s cock and pulls away at lightning speed. _Shit_. Covering for his boyfriend, Dean sits up - ensuring the sheets are properly wrapped around his middle - and greets the five-year-old as he runs into the bedroom with a beaming smile on his face.

“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing awake? Do you know what time it is?” He reaches out to ruffle Billie’s hair, making it stand on end even more, giving Cas a chance to wipe tears of reaction from his eyes and to arrange himself so it doesn't look like he just crawled out from between Dean’s legs.

“It's morning time!” Billie grins, all sparkly blue eyes and freckles and white teeth, and Dean hides a laugh. The kid has no idea that he's just interrupted his parents having some ‘alone time’, and the thought fills Dean with mirth. Cas is going to be _so_ frustrated. He is too, but he can kinda see the funny side.

“Billie,” Cas coughs and arranges the sheets around his middle, pink-cheeked and embarrassed. “Please can you go back to bed? It's too early to be getting up.”

“ _No,_ daddy, I want cuddles!”

“Billie. Please. Go back to bed.”

“Why?” The boy narrows his eyes as he looks from his father to Dean. Then he says, with all the innocence in the world, “What were you doing? Were you playing with Dean?”

“ _Billie_!”

Cas covers his face with his hands and Dean collapses back on the bed in laughter. That laughter doubles in intensity at the child’s perplexed expression but then he shrugs and approaches the bed, and any hope Dean and Cas had of spending the morning in each other's arms is dashed.

Cas tries one more pathetic attempt at getting his son to go back to bed, but it falls on deaf ears and seconds later the boy is climbing onto the bed and trying to snuggle down between Dean and Cas, and Cas collapses back onto his pillows with a groan of annoyance. Any arousal Dean had been feeling only a moment before has utterly drained away and he's soft between his legs, now filled with mirth at the situation, at Billie having no clue what he walked in on or the connotations of what he said, and he hides a snigger behind the back of his hand. There's another sound at the doorway and Lexie wanders in, climbing up and over Dean to settle next to his brother and the two of them wind their arms around each other and whisper nonsense in low tones, completely oblivious to their parents’ irritation. It's then that Dean realises that he's thought of himself and Cas as the twins’ parents twice in the last five minutes and that it felt completely and utterly normal. That thought makes his lips twist in a smile, and he lies back down in bed and wraps an arm around a warm, sleepy Lexie. Cas is keeping his distance, still red-cheeked and flustered, and it’s clearly taking him a moment to calm down and regain control over himself. Dean smiles at his boyfriend and receives a livid glare in return, one he can't help but grin at. Then his gaze falls to Billie, who is staring up at him in silence and the smile slides off Dean’s face.

Things have been strained between him and Billie since the incident at kindergarten; he doesn't want to push the boy since he's struggling with all the changes, and he's noticed Billie clinging to Cas a little more than normal. There have been no more incidents either at school or at home, but he's conscious of upsetting the apple cart, and wants to give the boy some space to spend time with his father and his twin. Over the weekend, Cas and Billie had gone to the beach, the park, the Lina ray and the swimming pool, and they had both come back with bright smiles and sparkly eyes and Cas had deemed the outings a success. Billie has been happier and more relaxed, playing nicely with Lexie and being more affectionate with his father than normal. But something between himself and Billie feels a little off and Dean can't help but wonder if it's all in his head or not. He’s noticed the little sideways glances and stares the child gives him, and has been trying not to think too hard on them or worry too much, stifling down the fear that Billie is purposely keeping him at arms’ length. He wonders if the boy is harbouring some jealousy over the relationship Dean has formed with Lexie, and isn't sure how to navigate through that if it is the case. He doesn't want to pull away from Lexie, but at the same time he doesn't want Billie to feel left out or shoved aside.

Billie gives Dean another long, calculating stare and then he shuffles closer to his brother. In a movement that both warms and stops Dean’s heart, Billie tugs at his wrist until he lifts his arm and the child snuggles closer, settling down next to his brother and coaxing Dean to hug both of them tightly. Lexie murmurs something to his brother, and Billie responds with, “No, Lexie, you have to share Dean with me. _I_ want cuddles with him, too.”

Relief flooding his veins, Dean squeezes them both and revels in the little giggles that spill from them. Billie burrows closer, his little hand comes out to tangle with Dean’s and he uses Dean’s arm as a pillow for his head. Cas, recovered, curls up behind Billie and reaches an arm protectively over the twins and curls his fingers around Dean’s waist, and they all fall asleep together in the warm light of the summer morning.

*

An hour later, when Dean and Cas are certain the boys are still asleep in their bed, they both disentangle themselves and head for the bathroom to shower. Together.

Dean licks and sucks Cas’ nipples and rubs a soap-slick thumb across his hole under the steady stream of hot water, knowing they have to be quick if they want to do this. He sinks two fingers in to the first knuckle and Cas whines, writhing against him and lifting one leg to wrap it around his waist. His hands are in Dean’s hair, his hard, hot cock pressing deliciously against Dean’s own, and he pants, “Yes, go on, yes…” as he's slowly fingered open. “More, Dean. Deeper. Yes, God, _right there_ …” After only a few hurried moments of prep, Dean spins Cas around and lines himself up, cock slick with shower gel and presses the wet head against his boyfriend’s entrance…

Then both groan in near-agony when a firm knock sounds from the door and Lexie’s determined little voice shouts for Cas, on the verge of tears because he can't find Bunny. Then the sound of Billie joining in and complaining that he wants his breakfast reaches them and Dean pulls away from Cas with a monumental effort, sighing and reaching down to rinse himself clean.

“I'm gonna wring their necks,” Cas grouches irritably as he towels himself off roughly and steps into a clean pair of boxers. “I just want _half an hour_ with you. Hell, _ten minutes_ will do, why can't they just…”

Dean silences him with a kiss. “Later. I promise. I should get ready for work anyway, but tonight… When they're in bed, you can have me all to yourself.”

*

Dean is rushed off his feet on his first day, the cafe busy with a constant stream of customers, and by the time his shift ends he's so exhausted he almost falls asleep sitting outside on the park bench, waiting for Cas to pick him up. Meg and Gabriel had praised him highly, told him that he had done well for his first day and that the customers liked him already. He kisses Cas hello and grins when he’s told he tastes like sugar and butter, and that Cas wants to eat him up. He's so tired that he yawns his way through dinner, and barely has the energy to tell them all how his day was, and only half-listens to the kids chattering about school. He even has homework to do: Meg has got it into her head that Dean can help with some of the baking, so he's been sent home with two recipe books to revise from, and he spends his evening curled up on the decking reading through them and valiantly ignoring the pleading looks that come from Cas from the moment the boys go to bed.

“Ten minutes…” Dean mumbles more than once. “Just want to finish this page… ten minutes…”

Eventually, Cas has had enough of waiting, and he comes striding out of the living room and onto the decking with a very clear purpose, stripping off his t-shirt as he walks. And that's it: Dean is distracted from his book and all he sees is Cas. Tanned, handsome, sweet, beautiful Cas, all hard lines and powerful muscle. And he knows without being told that Cas is going to be bossy tonight, is going to unabashedly take what he wants. And what he wants, judging by the almost feral look in his eyes, is Dean roughly fucking him until he screams.

He takes the wine glass from Dean’s hand and deposits it along with the books on the table, then straddles Dean’s lap with a sensual smile tugging at his lips, and Dean is accosted with the beautiful smell of cinnamon and vanilla, and beneath that the heady musk that is Cas’ natural scent. He breathes in deep, and feels his body respond enthusiastically. _This_ is what he needs right now, screw sleep or studying. He needs his man.

“You've done enough homework for one day,” Cas murmurs, pressing kisses to Dean’s neck. “I think you need to relax a bit…”

“Mmm, I think you're right.” Dean tilts his head back to expose his throat, and wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to pull him closer. They both gasp as their denim-clad erections come into contact, and Cas chokes on a guttural moan.

“Fuckin’ need you, Dean,” he pants, licking a wet stripe from Dean’s ear down to his collarbone, tugging the worn sweatshirt aside to access more freckled skin. “Need you inside me. Been waiting all fuckin’ day.” Cas arches against him, grinding down into Dean’s lap, needy and hot in his arms. “Can't wait any longer.”

Cas never swears, so hearing him so worked up has Dean more turned on than usual, the desperation lacing Cas’ voice acting as an aphrodisiac. He shifts forward and strips off his sweater, tossing it away and then his hands are all over Cas, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking deep red marks all over the tanned chest and collarbones, and Cas’ hands drop to fumble with his belt. Cas is grinding down into his lap in beautiful, rhythmic motions and it's pulling them both slowly towards the peak of pleasure. They're both so worked up from their _two_ aborted lovemaking sessions that morning that it's clear neither of them will last long. He tears open the button of Cas’ jeans and slides one hand inside them down the back, groaning against honeyed skin as he discovers Cas is going commando. His fingers dip into the crack of his boyfriend’s gorgeous ass, and just as they brush over his entrance Dean finds Cas’ mouth and kisses him deeply. They both pant and let out little moans and gasps as they explore each other's mouths; Cas’ hands are everywhere, his shoulders, his chest, gripping at his pecs and his stomach, nails scraping over his skin and teeth worrying Dean’s bottom lip. He moans against Cas’ lips and kisses him deep, aching between his legs and already desperate to strip the other man bare and spend the rest of the night worshipping his body.

But then…

“Daddy?”

“ _Fuuuuck!_ ” Cas’ low, desperate curse is muffled into Dean’s throat and he leans back with an infuriated groan to look around for the source of the timid little voice. “ _What_ , Lexie? Oh.” He stops short, chastised at the look on his son’s face; the boy has been crying and is standing in the doorway in his bumble bee pyjamas with the saddest look in the world on his face. “Oh, God. I'm sorry, baby. What is it?”

Cas climbs off him and snags his t-shirt from the ground, not bothering to put it on but kneeling down and wrapping an arm around his kid’s shoulders. “Nightmare?”

Lexie nods and presses close into his father and Cas sighs, lifting him up onto his hip and carding a hand through his hair, rocking him gently from side to side and casting Dean an unhappy, hopeless look. The boy will want to sleep with them, and Dean can't even be mad about it. No matter how much he wants Cas, the children come first. Especially at the moment. He stands up and turns his back for a second, taking a deep breath to calm himself and adjusting his jeans, gritting his teeth and thinking of the most unsexy things he can imagine, before going over and wrapping his arms around both of them. Lexie nuzzles his face, his little cheeks tear-damp and hot.

“C’mon, team. Let's get to bed. I bet we can chase those monsters away between us, right Lexie?”

The kid nods, Cas carries him inside, and Dean follows at a much slower pace, struck suddenly by memories. Sam used to have nightmares like this. Nightmares so bad he would wake up and climb into Dean’s bed with him, and Dean would tell him stories about make-believe hunters who would track the monsters down and get rid of them. Those stories always lulled Sammy back to sleep, then Dean would spend the rest of the night awake to watch over his brother and make sure the monsters didn't return. He's certain Sam doesn't have nightmares now, or if he does then maybe they're a different kind. Maybe he dreams of Dean, plunging to his death at the wheel of his car, drowning in freezing water or knocked unconscious by the impact. Maybe in his sleep he sees Dean’s own green, lifeless eyes staring up at him, the way Dean still sees Lilith’sMaybe those are his nightmares now, and maybe there's still a way for Dean to stop them. To make it all better.

With one last look over his shoulder, out at the decking and to the ocean beyond, he closes and locks the door and follows Cas down the hall to bed. Maybe it is time he thought seriously about getting in touch with his family. Maybe it's time his brother knew he was alive.


	19. Chapter 19

“Mmm, fuck yeah, Dean… that feels incredible…”

“You like that, baby? Yeah? You want more?”

“God, yes.  _Ohfuck…_ yes…”

“Wanna taste you, Cas…”

“Mmm, yes Dean, do it…”

“You're fucking incredible…”

“Shut up and suck me, you're driving me crazy…  _oh…”_

_“…”_

_“Fuck._ Yeah.  _God…_ your  _tongue…oh…”_

The bedroom door handle jiggles, and Dean only just manages to drag the blankets over himself and Cas before a dark head and a pair of big blue eyes appear, followed by a second set, and Cas lets out a positively distressed  _howl_  of frustration, and collapses back onto the bed. Dean doesn't laugh this time. This time, he's getting annoyed. He just wants  _half an hour_  with Castiel, to do whatever it is they want to do to work out their sexual frustrations, but the damn kids have been cockblocking them for almost three days now. Three days and two nights of non-stop whining and wanting things and ‘can we sleep with you’s and Dean is on his last nerve. He loves these boys so much, but he's so horny and infuriated that he's only moments away from bundling Cas into the car, driving them into the middle of nowhere, stripping Cas bare and fucking him over the hood of the car til he screams. 

Huh. That's actually not a bad idea…

“Lexie! Go away!”

“But daddy…”

“ _Now_!” Cas sits up, naked and glaring and only just covered by the sheets, his hair on end and blue eyes almost sparking. “Give Dean and I five damn minutes to ourselves,  _please_!”

“OK!” Cheerfully, Lexie takes Billie’s hand and they amble back out of the room, none the wiser. Cas lets out a relieved sigh, his hand already snaking out to grasp Dean’s shoulder in anticipation of time alone together. But then Lexie throws a comment back over his shoulder that makes Dean stiffen in discomfort and Cas just  _groans_ , hiding his face in his hands. “Uncle Jimmy is here!”

“Of  _course_  he is,” Cas grits out, already reaching for his t-shirt and Dean’s jeans, which were lying in a heap on the floor along with socks and underwear. Dean stares sadly at the pile of clothes. They were  _so close_  this time. “Here.” A bundle of clothing is shoved at him. “I'm going fucking crazy, I don't know about you.”

“Yeah, Cas. I feel ya.”

“You don't. You aren't. And that's the damn problem.” Cas mutters unhappily under his breath, tugging his t-shirt on as he walks off down the hall, and Dean follows when he's fully dressed and has done some deep breathing exercises to try and calm himself down. Even Meg has noticed he's been tense and irritable, and that isn't a good thing during his first week. She had made a feasible aside that maybe he needed to ‘frolick’ a little with Cas to sort himself out, and he only just bit back confirmation of how bang on the mark she actually was. 

In the kitchen, Jimmy has his head in the fridge and Cas is unhappily opening two beer bottles and still muttering to himself under his breath. 

“…it a rest, Castiel. What on earth is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing.” Cas slides a beer over to Dean, his expression mutinous. “I forgot you were coming.”

“Well, thanks, I feel so loved. I'm so glad I went to all the effort of making dinner for my favourite brother.” Jimmy closes the fridge door, a box of something delicious-smelling in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other as Cas mutters savagely, ‘your  _only_  brother’. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Jimmy. Whatcha got there?” Dean hadn't realised how hungry he is until right this very second - his stomach gives an interested growl, his appetite for sex put on the back burner for now, and Jimmy smirks and holds up the box. 

“Duck in plum sauce. My own recipe. Hungry?”

“ _Starved_.” Dean rummages in one of the drawers for cutlery, sneaking furtive glances at Castiel who is perched on a stool and sipping his beer with a thunderous expression. “Where are the kids?”

“Outside.” Jimmy brushes past Cas in search of plates, playfully nipping his brother on the back of the neck as he does and darts out of the way as his twin angrily swipes at him. “What on earth is wrong, Castiel? Someone shove a stick up your ass?”

Dean chokes. He had just taken a mouthful of beer and descends into a coughing fit as it goes up his nose and renders him both breathless and speechless for a few seconds. He doesn't miss Jimmy’s raised eyebrows, nor Cas’ slightly mean smirk. 

“ _Nothing_ , Jimmy. And that's sort of the problem.”

“What?” The elder Novak twin dumps a pile of plates on the table and shouts for the boys to come inside for dinner. “What do you mean?”

“I  _mean_ , Dean and I cannot get five minutes to ourselves!” Cas slams his bottle down on the worktop irritably, making Dean jump. “And it's driving me insane.”

“You… you mean…  _Cas!_ ” Jimmy goes beet red and stares resolutely down at the dinner he's serving up. “That is under the heading of ‘things I  _never_  want to know about’! Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I need a good fuck, Jimmy, that's what.” Cas snaps, and Dean chokes on his beer again, this time in embarrassed laughter. The expression on Jimmy’s face is  _priceless._ Where's a camera when he needs one? “Oh, and don't worry your pretty head over thinking about your brother having sex with his boyfriend. Because we are  _definitely_  not doing that!”

The kids choose that moment to run inside, all sandy feet and hair and smelling of sea water, and Jimmy and Dean both grab a child each as a distraction from their embarrassment. Grumbling and muttering to himself, Cas takes over serving up their dinner and eventually settles his children at the table to eat. Jimmy fervently avoids everyone's eyes, focusing on cutting up prices of duck into bite-sized morsels for the boys and asking them about kindergarten. Eventually, he takes a deep swallow of wine and addresses Cas without looking at him. 

“I have an early finish tomorrow. What do you say I pick the boys up from kindergarten…” Together, Lexie and Billie whoop in approval. “And take them to the aquarium downtown for a few hours? I've heard it's worth a visit. And since you boys were drawing pictures of creatures that live in the sea today…”

“ _Yes_! Please, please, daddy! Please can we go to see the fish?” Billie wriggles excitedly in his seat, grinning from ear to ear. Dean can't help but smile at how elated he looks. 

Cas doesn't actually say anything in response. Instead, he slides off his stool and goes to Jimmy, wrapping an arm around his brother and gripping his jaw in one hand to and planting a kiss firmly on his cheek. Jimmy groans and shoves him away in disgust muttering, ‘you owe me one’. Cas goes back to his own seat with a shit-eating grin on his face and, if Dean isn't sorely mistaken, slightly misty eyes. 

“I think that's a yes, kiddos. Trip to the aquarium with Uncle Jimmy tomorrow, that sounds like an awesome plan!”

“Are you coming too, Dee?” Billie smiles across the table at him and bangs his fork excitedly on the table. Lexie chews a mouthful of duck with a pleased smile on his face, turning his own set of pleasing blue eyes on Dean. 

“Uh, no kid, I'm not. I have to work.”

“I'll sure make you work…” Cas mutters with a sly grin. Dean covers his face with his hands, the kids stare at him with mystified eyes, and Jimmy chokes on his wine. 

*

Dean struggles to concentrate at work the following day. Castiel certainly does not help with that: he sends Dean multiple text messages throughout the day, some of them innocent and incongruous while others are teasing, tempting, and downright filthy. Those are the ones he struggles to get out of his mind. The suggestions of what they should do when Dean gets home, the ideas Cas has in mind for them, then the downright lewd mental images he forces into Dean’s subconscious with his words. Damn. The guy certainly is a talented writer. 

He makes coffee, serves cookies and brownies and pie and croissants, chats with regulars and flirts harmlessly with some f the young men and women who wander in looking for their next hit of caffeine and sugar. And he realises how much he loves his job. How he enjoys the interaction with different, new people and how he hasn't even noticed that his fear of being out in public without Cas as a buffer has all but dissipated. He still feels a small twinge of fear every time the bell at the door sounds, but as soon as he's laid eyes on the customers and ascertained that no, they don't know him and their smiles are just warm, friendly and polite he feels much better. A gaggle of women in their sixties come in, making the most of a pit-stop on a coach trip day out (Dean thinks he would rather die than do such a thing when he reaches retirement age), and they swoon and coo over him until he's blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl; one even reaches over the counter to pinch his cheek. 

“I bet you have a very lucky lady waiting for you at home!” One of them comments in a strong Texan accent. 

“I think I'm the lucky one…” He smiles as they ‘awh’ and ‘ahh’ at him for a few minutes more while he makes their teas and bags up their treats, then sends them on their way with a grin and a wave. 

It might not be making him a million, he might not be climbing the career ladder of some corporate giant, and he might not be his own boss, but he really, really loves his new job. 

Then, when Dean only has an hour left until his shift finishes, the picture messages start. 

He shouldn't really have his phone on him while he works, serving customers coffee and delicious baked treats, but Meg and Gabriel allow it in case Cas needs to contact him about the kids. They were both there when Lexie almost drowned in the ocean, so they know exactly why Dean is a little skittish about knowing they're safe at all times. He rings up an order for two lattes and a slice of cherry pie for a sweet elderly couple who are regular visitors, and goes through to the kitchen to harass Gabriel into making more pies and sharpish. That was his last piece of cherry flavour, and he's determined to take some home to Cas. As he heads through to the break room to take five (on Gabriel’s orders since he's barely had ten minutes to himself all day) his phone buzzes in his pocket with a picture message from Cas. It's very innocent: a selfie of him smiling, all pretty blue eyes with crinkles at the corners, straight white teeth with just a little too much gum showing, and three-day-old stubble. Dean’s heart jumps at the sight of him, and he responds with a snap of himself looking tired but happy, a smudge of chocolate on his cheekbone. 

The second photo is an awkwardly taken selfie of Cas sunbathing, lying out on the beach on a towel, skin golden and gleaming with tanning lotion, and his long legs stretching away towards the sea. A book is abandoned in the sand next to him, the cover bent and the pages yellowed and well-read. Dean saves the picture and makes it his phone wallpaper. 

The third image is Cas back at the house, in front of the mirror in a pair of orange boxer shorts, and he looks so delectable that Dean almost whimpers out loud. Damn. Running on the beach every day has caused Cas’ body to tone up and become lean and athletic, more so than he already was. His thighs are thick and powerful, and Dean succumbs to the mental image of them wrapped around his waist in their bed later in the day. With shaking hands, he manages to serve the next customer but then he darts through to the back for a breather. And checks his phone. 

The fourth picture is also a mirror shot, this time totally naked with Cas’ hand cupping his groin and the caption, ‘Hurry home!’ Dean's mouth runs dry and he feels his body respond in kind, a pleasant tingling down his spine and heat building between his legs signalling just how much he's missed intimacy with Cas. He craves his lover’s body like a drowning man craves air in his lungs. He checks his watch: ten minutes left. He can get through ten measly minutes, then he can get home to Cas. Only a half-hour drive. Not long, but much, much too long. 

Cas doesn't say hello to him when he walks through the door. He doesn't say a single word. Instead, he’s shoved against the wall and his boyfriend is attacking him with ferocious kisses and nips, kicking deep into his mouth and moaning shamelessly, hands fisted in the front of Dean’s leather jacket. 

“Please…” Cas breathes into his mouth. “Please, Dean, please. Bedroom. Now.”

And Dean couldn't deny Cas if his life depended on it. He hooks his hands under his thighs and lifts, and Cas’ legs wrap around his waist as he showers kisses over Dean’s cheeks and jaw as he's carried through to the bedroom. They fall to the bed together, Dean on top, and he moans in pleasure as he explores Cas’ mouth lazily, settling himself between the other man’s thighs. As much as he wants this to be long, drawn out pleasure he knows it won't be. They're too desperate for each other. 

“Jimmy text me,” Cas pants against his lips, cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat already present in the hollow of his throat. “He’s taking them for dinner, too. We have  _hours_.”

“Good.” Dean growls low in his throats and captures Cas’ mouth again in an almost violent kiss. “You can't even imagine the things I want to do to you.”

Cas shudders and moans, arching his spine to lift his hips so Dean can drag his jeans down. He's going commando, of course. Less layers to peel off. Dean grins at Cas’ forward-planning, pushes his t-shirt up to expose his tanned abs, and licks a stripe from his navel down to where his cock is resting, hard and already damp at the tip, against his thigh. 

*

Dean fucks Cas hard, in every position they can think of. When Dean finally, finally comes after almost two hours of taking Cas so roughly it's almost obscene, Cas lies beneath him and sobs. He clings tightly to Dean and whispers into his neck how much he loves him, and can't stop tears of reaction running down his temples and into his hair; he's overstimulated from three orgasms very close together, and doesn't seem to want their fucking to ever end. His legs are tight around Dean’s waist, arms around his neck, and Dean only just managed to stop himself collapsing completely on top of him and crushing him; their bodies are slick with sweat, come and lube and Cas is making sweet little whining sounds in the back of his throat, and starts to trace patterns into the sweat on Dean’s back. 

“Fuckin’ love you, Cas,” Dean kisses him deeply, teasing him with a gentle roll of his hips which draws a choked cry from the lips of his lover. “So damn much.”

He moves to lie down next to Cas, both of them gasping and moaning with regret as their bodies separate, and Cas cuddles tightly against him, kicking the sheets as far away as he can. It's stiflingly hot in the bedroom. He strokes Cas’ bare shoulders and back, nudging him back a little to get a proper look at him. And when he does, he almost feels a bit guilty for the state he's left his lover in. Almost. Cas was  _more_  than enthusiastic…

The other man’s lips are kiss-swollen and there's a slightly bloody indent where he's clearly been biting it while getting deeply fucked. His throat is a mess of red marks and scratches, and Dean thinks he can see the imprint of his fingers very faintly. He knows Cas’ back will be similar to his: marked up with scratches, but he can't help but feel a pulse of pleasure at the memory. Cas, catching him staring, smiles curiously. 

“You're a mess, baby.” Dean kisses his nose. “Are you all right? I wasn't too rough?”

“I'm fine, Dean.” Cas sighs, stretching, and groans at the protest of his muscles. “More than fine. That was…”

“The best sex you've ever had?” Dean grins and Cas laughs. 

“The best sex I've ever had. For sure.”

They lie together, holding hands and talking quietly as they catch their breath and enjoy the afterglow, until Cas’ phone beeps to tell them it's time to get up and shower. In the bathroom, Dean attends to Cas with all the love and adoration he can pour into every touch. He leans him against the shower wall and cleans every inch of caramel skin he can reach, tracing his touches with gentle kisses and Cas sighs and tips his head back under the spray, closing his eyes in rapture. He's exhausted and sated, completely pliant under Dean’s touch, and there's a smile at his lips that confirms just how happy he is that they finally got their time together. Dean echoes that sentiment wholeheartedly. He kisses every mark he’s left on Cas. Every scratch, nip and love bite, and Cas cradled his face and reassures him that he's fine, that he loved every moment of it. He smiles wickedly, his tone sugar-sweet when he asks Dean to leave such marks next time. And the time after that. Dean just groans and nods in promise. 

They dress in warm sweaters and jeans, and cook dinner together never standing more than a foot apart. They touch constantly; a brush of hands here, a gentle kiss there, an arm around shoulders or hands on hips, kisses pressed to the nape of a neck and gentle nuzzling under jaws. At one point Dean turns Cas gently around and lifts him up to sit on the counter top. He stands between his thighs and kisses him, over and over and on and on, drawing a pretty blush to Cas’ cheeks and sweet giggles from his lips. They don't speak much, for fear of breaking the beautiful sense of calm and intimacy that has settled on them, and Dean feels more in love than ever. 

Cas runs out to meet Jimmy and the boys as the car pulls up, hugging both his kids at once and lifting them into his arms, bright-eyed as they chatter excitedly about their day, and Dean and Jimmy exchange a warm smile. 

“Jimmy, thank you-”

“I don't want to know, Dean.” Jimmy breezes past him into the house with the kids’ pack packs on his arm. “All I did was take my nephews to the aquarium. Whatever you and Cas did to pass the time is no business of mine.” 

He stops short and sends a look back over his shoulder at his twin who is nuzzling Billie’s neck and kissing his forehead while Lexie starts to doze off on his shoulder. He goes to say something else but stops, smiling, and they all wander together into the house. 

*

Dean whistles as he strolls inside to fetch another glass of water. Summer is coming to an end, but the days are still log and warm, punctuated by the odd cloudy sky and light rain storm. But not today: blue skies stretch off across the ocean to merge with the water at the horizon, and the breeze is balmy and refreshing. He's really going to miss this weather when the fall rolls in. Cas’ birthday is in three days, and he's spent hours already planning what to get him and how to celebrate. He thinks he has an idea in mind; Jimmy has made a reservation for all of them to have an early dinner on the Saturday afternoon, the day after their actual birthday. The booking is early enough that the kids can come, and Jimmy said he did that because he didn't want them to miss out on the celebrations. Privately, Dean thinks it's because Cas doesn't trust anybody beyond the three of them to babysit the boys, especially following Lexie’s accident. He finds he's looking forward to having two generations of Novak twins there for dinner; he's so entwined in the kids’ lives now that going out without them to celebrate would feel unnatural. 

A sound at the door draws his attention, and he spots the post on the doormat and the retreating silhouette of the postman through the bevelled glass of Cas’ front door. He scoops the letters up and deposits them on the kitchen counter, flicking idly through them in case any are addressed to him. Unsurprisingly, none are, and he's just about to wander back outside when something about the letter on the top catches his attention. 

The envelope is thick and expensive, the handwriting understated and neat, and there's something incredibly familiar about it. The name written on the front is Castiel’s, with his address printed neatly underneath, but the writing… Dean picks up the letter with slightly shaky fingers and turns it over in his hands. He's probably wrong. Of course he's wrong. There's no way Cas would be receiving a letter from  _him_. Out of the seven billion people on the planet, of course it stands to reason that a few of them share similar handwriting. Then his finger trails across the postmark and a chill sweeps over him. He knows that postmark. He's received many a letter with that stamp on. But it  _can't_ be. Why would Cas be receiving a letter from…

Trying to swallow the lump of anxiety, dread, anger and hope that has formed in his throat, Dean turns the letter open and slides a nail underneath the seal to tear it open. He knows he shouldn't, that it's an invasion of Castiel’s privacy, but he can't stop himself. He has to know. It's either a dull letter from someone Cas knows, fan mail maybe, and the person just happens to live in the same town and share the same handwriting as… or if Occam’s Razor is to be correct, as it so often is, the letter is from the exact person Dean thinks it’s from. And if so, then he's reasonably certain his entire world is about to tilt on its axis. He swallows a mouthful of bile and tries to stop his hands from trembling. 

He discards the envelope onto the floor, unfolds two thick pages almost black with neat writing, and sinks down in the nearest chair. The wind has picked up outside, howling a little through the open window, but the sun still beats down and bathes Dean in its warmth. 

Heart in his mouth, he begins to read. 

*

_Dear Castiel,_

_Thank you for your letter. I apologise for taking so long to write back to you. I would make an excuse, but I doubt you'd believe any. And since you've been so frank with me it would be unfair to lie to you. The truth is that your letter has been sitting on my desk for a while now, because I was unable to decide how to reply. Hearing from you was… a shock, to say the least. I've heard your name, thanks to your books, but never did I expect to receive a letter from you. Nor could I ever have anticipated its content._

_By the time this letter reaches you, it's possible I will be on my way to you. I plan to book a flight as soon as I post this, and will be with you as soon as I can. I feel we should discuss everything in person._

_First of all, I should confirm something for you. Dean Winchester was, indeed, my older brother…_

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?

Dean doesn't know how the hell he does it, but he manages to get through the rest of the day without breaking. He does it for the kids, not for himself and certainly not for Cas. The boys have been through enough uproar and he can't bring himself to add to it. He had contemplated leaving the house and the family and bolting, but only the photos in the living room of Lexie and Billie grinning mischievously out at him stopped him. His bag had been half-packed, and he had been ferreting around for his phone when he had noticed the photo. The boys have their arms around each other, Billie’s hair is a mess with the wind and Lexie is red-cheeked and smiling. They're happy and excited about life, and pain lanced through Dean at the thought of leaving them. He hadn’t gone to finish packing; instead, he had collapsed in the nearest chair and read his brother’s letter for the twentieth time. 

His brother. Fuck. _Fuck_. If Sam is truly coming, is on his way... Dean can’t process it. He needs to talk to Cas; the idea of seeing Sam recedes into the back of his mind in comparison to having it out with Cas. Or rather, he’s forcefully shoved all thoughts of Sam into a locked and sealed box in the furthest, darkest corner of his mind because... Sam... he can’t. He can’t go there, can’t think about his brother. Not yet.

He's spent hours and hours going over everything in his head. Trying to fathom what Cas has said to Sam and, more importantly, why he's done this. Why he decided to take matters into his own hands and leave Dean out in the cold to be blindsided by the fallout. Panic clenches through his stomach at every noise from outside: his fear is that it's Sam, pulling up in some expensive rental car, walking up the path and knocking on the door. What the hell would he do then? Answer it? Hide in a closet?  _Why_  has Cas done this to him? A dagger of betrayal has lodged itself in his ribs somewhere, and he can't wrench it free. He needs to speak to Cas, to find out what he was fucking  _thinking._  Beyond that, he doesn't have a clue what to do. A shred of anticipation and relief tugs at him; he will no longer have to agonise about first contact. It's been done for him. 

But at what cost?

All evening, he's tense and twitchy. His hands tremble constantly, every sound makes him jump, and he knows he's got a wild look in his eyes which is unsettling Cas greatly. He had returned from the library with the kids in tow, completely clueless about the letter now stashed in the back pocket of Dean's jeans. He had managed to kiss Cas hello -  _somehow_  - and had managed to go about their evening dinner routine acting as close ton normal as possible. Cas, of course, knows something is wrong and keeps shooting Dean furtive glances and trying to pull him aside. However, after the third instance of Dean wrenching his arm from Cas’ grip and turning away, he gives up with wide, sad eyes and falls back to wait for whatever is coming. When the children finish their dinner, Cas puts them to bed early and Dean listens from the kitchen as he reads them a bedtime story in the low, rich voice he loves so much. His chest hurts, his throat hurts, his heart hurts. He doesn't want Cas to come back into the kitchen because then it will all come out and their perfect romance will be fractured. His hands shake as he picks up his and Cas’ wine glasses from the table, and he takes several deep breaths to steady himself as footsteps approach down the corridor. 

“Is… is something wrong, Dean?” Cas’ voice quivers a little as he clears the plates. Dean, barely keeping his anger in control, doesn't answer. “You've been distant all evening, is something… have I done something? To upset you?”

“I don't know, Cas. Why don't you tell me?” His voice comes out a lot more evenly than he expected, a lot quieter, and he reaches behind him to pull out the letter, creased and crumpled from being read and re-read. “Why don't you tell me what this is? That would be a good start.”

“That?” Cas’ brow furrows in genuine confusion. “I've no idea, I've never seen…” He takes the letter and scans it, and Dean watches his face change. The colour drains from his cheeks and he closes his eyes for a moment as realisation hits. “Dean… I can explain.”

“Really? Good.” He folds his arms across his chest, shoulders tense and posture hostile as he glares daggers at Cas. The anger that had been coiled quietly in his stomach all day ignites, surging through him and lighting up. “Go for it.”

“I… I…” Words fail Castiel and he stares unseeingly at the letter in his hands. “I never meant…”

“What? For me to find out?” Dean’s voice is colder than ice, and Cas flinches visibly. “You're really that deceitful? How fucking  _dare_  you, Cas?” He snatches the letter and reads sections from it aloud. “‘ _I find it difficult to talk about Dean’ -_  yeah, I bet he does - ‘ _would like to help you with your research… my brother’s death was tragic and preventable… feel a level of guilt for my part in it…’”_ He finishes reading with a tremor in his voice. “‘ _By the time this letter reaches you, it's very likely I will be on my way to you.’_ What the fuck does that mean, Cas? Is he coming  _here?_ To  _our house_? How does he even know our address? What the fuck did you tell him, Cas?” 

Dean loses it, and throws the letter at his boyfriend, turning away and gripping his hair to stop himself from punching the nearest wall. His heart feels like it's trying to climb out of his mouth and he's so tense he's sure that the only thing to calm him would be screaming and screaming and never stopping. 

“I didn't  _know_ he would come!” Cas’ voice is anguished and desperate. “I didn't think he would ever reply! I wrote to him weeks ago, and when I didn't hear back I thought the letter had never got to him. I prayed it hadn't, Dean.” Cas comes up behind him and tries to take his arm. “I knew I'd fucked up from the moment I fucking posted it, and when he didn't respond I thought it never got to him. Dean, I swear, I never meant to hurt you…”

“But you kept it from me!” Dean spins around and bats Cas’ arm away with more force than he intended. His forearm connects with the bone in Cas’ wrist with a loud crack and the other man lets out a groan of pain. Contrition rises within Dean and he reaches for Cas reflexively, then pulls back. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I… I thought you'd hate me for interfering.” Blue eyes stare up at him wide with fear, tears forming at the corners. “I was ashamed that I'd ever written to him so I thought…”

“You could hide it and get away with it. Right. Gotcha.”

“No! No, Dean, I  _wanted_ to tell you so much, I-”

“Then why  _didn't_ you?” Tears prick at Dean’s eyes and he forces them back. “We could have sorted this out  _together_!”

“You would have been livid with me.” Cas’ own eyes are shining and he reaches for Dean again before stopping, nervous. “I didn't want to damage what we have…”

“Well, you've done a pretty stellar job, Cas. What did you tell him?” Dean forces his voice to come out evenly. When Cas doesn't respond immediately, he grabs his arm and yanks him closer. “What did you tell him about me? Tell me!”

“I said… I, I said…” Cas’ throat works and a single tear makes its way down his cheek. “I was writing a book and… and… I'd heard your story and…”

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” He shoves Cas away before he does something he knows he will regret. “You fucking  _used_  my life to do this? To trap my brother into getting in touch? You used the worst details of my life, the things  _you made me confess_   _to you_ when I didn't fucking want to? To do  _this_?”

“I'm so sorry, Dean, baby, you have to believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to  _help_ , I thought I could help-”

“You thought you could swoop in and arrange a surprise family reunion and preside over it with a proud fucking smile, is that it? That Sam would set eyes on me and we would just cry and hug it out and then we’d all live happily ever after? Am I close?” He can tell by the mournful look on his partner’s face that he isn't close: he's bang on target. Cas wanted to be his knight in shining fucking armour, and a small -  _tiny!_ \- part of him can sort of, maybe, kinda understand. But that part crumbles and disintegrates into dust pretty damn fast. “How  _could_ you?”

“Daddy?” A noise from the corridor cuts into their shouting and they both stop mid-sentence to look for the source of the voice. The boys are standing there, holding hands, looking distressed. It's Lexie who speaks. “Why are you yelling?”

“Bed, kids.” Dean grits out. He doesn't have the strength for this. Being in the same room as Cas is draining his energy, he can't have the kids added into the mix. “Now.”

“But you're  _yelling_.” Lexie sounds so confused, and his eyes are all round and worried, but Dean is holding on to his last remaining thread of self-control and has to turn away. He hears Cas soothe his son and ask him to please go back to sleep, that they're just having a grown-up conversation and nothing is wrong. “But you  _never_  yell.” The same confused, unhappy tone to the boy’s voice breaks Dean’s heart just a little more, but by the time he summons the energy to turn around it's just him and Cas alone again and the anger returns full force. 

“How could you do this to me, Cas? How could you betray me like this?”

Castiel’s face loses what remaining colour it has left and he takes an involuntary, desperate step towards Dean. 

“I wasn't… I never meant… I was trying to  _help_ , Dean. I just wanted to help. I knew you were having a rough time trying to decide how to get in touch with him so I thought-”

“Thought what? That you'd take that decision into your own hands?” Dean’s practically sparking he's so angry. “What part of  _I didn't want to get in touch with him_  escaped your understanding? And now he's on his way!  _Here!_ Are you fucking insane?”

“I didn't know!” Cas is on the verge of tears. “I didn't know he would want to come! I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so sorry!”

“It's a bit fucking late for that.” Dean grits his teeth so hard he almost cracks a molar. “What were you gonna do, Cas? Invite him in for a fucking coffee so we can catch up like old friends? Were you even going to  _tell_  me?”

“Yes!” Cas’ cry is bordering on hysterical. “Of course! I-”

“When?”

“I don't…I d-don't know…” Cas is stammering over his words, visibly distraught and trying to think of a way to calm the situation. Dean can tell by the way he's chewing his fingernails and how his eyes are darting from one point in the room to another. Cas is trembling, and it shouldn't bother Dean but it does. Memories of their last explosive argument swarm at him and he shudders. He and Cas don't argue well. But this is more than an argument. This is betrayal, raw and vivid, and Dean can't process it. He's shutting down, and his fight or flight reaction is kicking in. 

When he looks at Cas, he doesn't see the face of the man he loves. He sees the man who he gave everything to, the man who has taken it all and thrown it back in his face. And then some. 

“We’re done, Cas. Finished. I'm leaving. I should never… I should never have fucking stayed here…”

The words stick in his throat but he forces them out, and pushes past the other man in an attempt to hide the pain on his face. He doesn't even know if he truly means what he's saying, but in this moment he means it. He's pulling in on himself, all his emotions vanishing behind walls he's only too familiar with. Walls he had sculpted and perfected in the wake of Lilith’s death, walls which he never thought he would ever have to use again. Especially not to protect himself from Cas. In the bedroom he packs quickly with jerky, stilted movements, grabbing anything he thinks is his. In his frenzy, his fingers brush the copy of  _Lazarus Rising_ stuffed in his rucksack, and he can't stop himself - he draws it out and throws it to the floor at Cas’ feet. The spine breaks and pages shower everywhere. The blue eyes, wet and bloodshot and terrified, widen for a second. 

“Dean no, no,  _please!”_  Tears are flowing freely down Cas’ cheeks now and his expression is painful to witness. So Dean doesn't look. “Please don't go. Don't leave, you  _can't-”_

 _“_ Don't you  _dare_ tell me what I can and can't do!” Dean turns on Cas who pales and staggers back, eyes red and horrified. “I'm  _going_ , Cas, because I can't fucking stand to look at you after what you've done! How could you do this to me?”

“Dean, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…” Cas tries to reach for him with trembling hands but Dean shoves them viciously away. 

“ _Don't!_ Get back, Cas, get the fuck away from me!” He shoves another handful of clothes into his rucksack, uncaring whether they belong to him, Cas, the kids or anyone at all. He needs  _out_ , now. 

“But… but… the kids…”

“ _No!”_  He shoves roughly past his lover and heads for the hallway. “You don't get to use them as a weapon to keep me here. Fuck you, Cas, seriously.  _You've_ done this,  _you've_ destroyed us.  _You_ explain to  _your_ kids what you did.”

“They're… they're  _our_  kids…” Cas’ voice is so small and hurt that the words are barely audible, and they stab through Dean’s heart like a lance. Because they  _are_  their kids. They're  _his_ babies, too. But right now, he wants to hurt Cas. Wants him to feel as destroyed and betrayed and  _pained_  as he does. He  _needs_  to hurt Cas. And he needs to get away before he really hurts Cas. “They're  _yours,_  Dean, and you're ours, and you can't just go like this. Please.  _Please_. I'll do anything, I swear. Anything.”

“You've done enough.” They've reached the front door and Cas is a mess. He's crying so hard he can barely breathe, and every instinct within Dean is screaming at him to wrap him in an embrace, to wipe his tears away and hush him until he calms. And he almost reaches for him. His arm jerks with the start of the motion. But he can't. He can barely think past the betrayal. On some level, perhaps Cas thought he was doing the right thing but at present, he doesn't fucking care. He needs to be alone, away from this house and the perfect life he's built up, and he needs to go  _now._

“Dean, please. Please! I love you, please don't do this. We can sort this out, we can! Dean…”

He can't look at Cas anymore. The walls are closing in and it's a struggle to breathe. He needs to get out. 

“ _Dean!”_  

The last thing he sees as he reaches back to slam the door closed in his wake is Cas collapsing to his knees in the hallway, reaching desperately after him and breaking down completely. 

*

Cas doesn't get up from the floor for a long, long time. He can't stop the sobs that wrack his entire body; he's kneeling but pitched forward onto his forearms, forehead almost touching the floor, and can barely breathe for crying. He's sure the kids will be awake and able to hear everything, but he can't think of them right now. All he wants is Dean. His Dean. And in one foolish, thoughtless, impulsive moment he's destroyed everything they've spent months building. He cries harder, until he has no tears left and his throat is raw and aching. 

Somehow he manages to drag himself to the sofa and pulls his phone out with trembling hands, but it isn't Dean he calls. He knows his boyfriend won't pick up. So he calls the one person he knows will come to him, the one person he knows will stand by him no matter how badly he fucks up. And this time? He's fucked up very, very badly. He's hot and sticky and feverish from crying, feeling like he could throw up, and he curls himself into a small, miserable ball on the sofa and hits the call button. 

The phone rings twice, three times, four times, then his twin answers and the sound of his voice is instant balm on his fractured nerves. He can picture Jimmy vividly: sitting at his desk in the study, the window open and the breeze ruffling the plants on the sill, surrounded by piles of books and paperwork. He’ll have his glasses perched on his nose and will be elbow-deep in grading test papers, probably with a large glass of wine for company and Mozart on his record player. 

For a moment, he can't speak. He can only gasp for breath quietly and try to hold back a fresh wave of tears. 

“Cas?” Jimmy is instantly alert. “What's wrong?”

But Cas still can't put it into words. He can't confess to what he's done, can't admit to Jimmy that he's single-handedly ruined his relationship and that the kids have probably lost a second father in the space of their short lives. He's already let down three out of the four people he loves more than his own existence: Dean, his partner and the love of his life, the man who completes him and makes his soul ache with how much he adores him. And his children, who will suffer now because of what Cas has done. He's broken their family by being so thoughtless. How he ever thought he was helping is beyond him now. And now, he can't bear to speak the words because voicing his irreparable mistake will mean letting Jimmy down too, and his twin has already given up so much for him, supported him through anything and everything, and this feels like a step too far. So he just sobs quietly, resting his head on the back of the sofa and covering his eyes, trying to block out the light from the kitchen and the excruciating memories of the last hour. 

“I'm coming over.” He hears Jimmy getting up, hears the sound of music switching off and the clatter of a chair as it's pushed under a desk haphazardly. “Whatever it is, Cas, it will be OK. Are you and the kids safe? Is anyone hurt?”

What a question. Cas wants to wail that  _yes_ , someone is hurt and it's all his fault and what should he  _do_ , but he just nods then remembering Jimmy can't hear him unless he verbalises he manages to utter a choked ‘no, nobody’s hurt’ and Jimmy ends the call with the reassurance that he'll be there soon and Cas just needs to wait for him. His brother only lives in the town, but the half hour drive makes it seem like he's a thousand miles away. 

*

Castiel finally falls into a fitful, exhausted sleep on the sofa just before dawn, his head pillowed on Jimmy’s thighs and a blanket draped over him. He's cried all night, and even the embrace of his twin hasn't calmed him one bit. Jimmy stares blankly out of the window, running his fingers through Cas’ hair and stroking the back of his neck like when they were kids and Cas couldn't sleep, and is unable to shake the sickened feeling that it's all over. Cas’ perfect family is, once again, shattered. 

Dean doesn't sleep at all. He sits on the beach a mile or two down from his home, feeling hollowed out and empty, and watches as the sky turns an inky purple, then blood red with the rising of the sun. 


	21. Chapter 21

One day passes. Then another. And then a third.

Dean gets up and goes to work, then goes back to the motel he's staying at - The Roadhouse, run by a scary woman named Ellen whom he avoids like the plague - and sleeps. His voicemail is full with messages from Cas which he can't bring himself to listen to, and his mailbox is jammed with text messages. He does read a few of those, but deletes them with tears in his eyes. He needs time to cool down, collect his thoughts, and tether the feelings of panic associated with seeing his brother again. None of the messages mention Sam, so Dean feels sure that his little brother hasn't shown up. Maybe, hopefully, he's changed his mind and is at this moment heading back home.

He hurts. Mentally, physically and emotionally, he's aching. He just wants things back the way they were, before he found out what Cas had done. He wants to hug his boyfriend, play with the kids, cook dinner and laugh together like they always do. He wants it all back. He writes down everything he wants to say to Cas - something Benny taught him to do back home when things were bad, as a way of clearing his head - and reads the list over and over again, scribbling and adding and editing and rewriting. It always ends with the same two phrases: I hate you. I love you. And he always, always crosses out the first.

Meg and Gabriel have kept their distance at work, trying and failing to cheer him up and eventually just letting him get on with things. He relies on coffee to get him through the day and beer to help him sleep at night, but he dreams of Cas and Sam and wakes up exhausted. Day one was tough, because he was still clinging to his anger, still felt numb and detached. But day two was harder, because that's when the hurt and upset started to seep in, and all he could think of was the letter and Cas’ distraught face as he cried. He can't sort through his feelings, can't separate fury and betrayal from love and _family_ and _home_ no matter how hard he tries. He wants to. God, he wants to. A deep-seated instinct inside him is nudging him to go, just leave, start over again somewhere else. But something stronger has him bound to this town, to Cas and Jimmy and the children, and he knows it will take something much more catastrophic than this to destroy it. (What could be more catastrophic he can't quite imagine right now, but he's sure there must be something.)

Day three dawns rainy and cool, and he lies in bed for ages without moving a muscle. He misses the sound of the oceans outside as he wakes. He misses the cloud-like comfort of Cas’ bed. And he misses sweet smiles, warm skin and morning kisses. His throat tightens and he wants to cry. Should he go back today? Talk to Cas, sort all this mess out? Has he been away long enough to give himself time to calm and to make a point to Castiel? What his point is he doesn't honestly know, but he's sure he's made it. His phone blinks at him and he steels himself, hoping for the first time in three days that it's Cas. He's ready to hear his voice.

But it's a text message, not a call, and it's not from Cas. Cas hasn't been in touch for over twelve hours now, an eternity in both their minds.

_Dean, we need to talk. Meet me before your shift tomorrow at work._

Anger and hurt flares inside him at the bossy tone, and he types a reply. **No, Jimmy. Leave it for now.**

_Dean. This isn't just about you and Cas. The kids are involved too. Stop being selfish._

Selfish? Selfish! **Fuck you, Jimmy.**

He collapses back down on his bed and tosses the phone across the room where it hits the wall and breaks apart. Shit. Now he has no way of contacting Cas at all, nor Jimmy to tell him to keep his nose in his own business. He barks out a laugh into the empty room at that: Cas is Jimmy’s business. So are the children. And, by extension, so is Dean. Why did he have to mention the children? The sweet, innocent, beautiful kids that Dean has fallen in love with and is missing so much it hurts. He would give anything to have Lexie in his arms right now, or Billie clinging to his leg and grinning up at him. And Cas, watching them with that warm, affectionate half-smile of his... no. He mustn't think about Cas  

He drags himself to the bathroom and showers, and somehow makes it to work. The place is immaculate and spotless as usual, the light bouncing cheerfully off the glass cabinets housing delicious baked treats and the chrome espresso machines lining the back wall. Glass jars sit above them, stuffed with chocolate flakes, cinnamon, vanilla pods, M&Ms, glacé cherries and all sorts of little additions to drinks that people seem to crave these days. The smell of sugar and butter and richly ground coffee assaults him and he breathes deeply, listening to the happy jingle of the bell above him as he walks through the door. The floor is shining from him scrubbing it on his hands and knees after closing time the previous evening, an effort to clear his mind and put his hands to work doing something - anything - that isn't texting Cas or punching the nearest wall. He can hear Gabriel singing out of tune through the back, and Meg is bustling about with her hair tied up and an apron on, clattering trays and pressing keys on the cash register. She grins when she sees him.

“Morning, Dean-o. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning?”

“I guess…” He eyes her warily. She's never normally so cheerful. 

“Good. You have an early customer.” She turns to walk away, gesturing with the shrug of a shoulder to a table tucked away in the corner. “I'll leave you to deal.”

Then she's gone, and Dean is turning to see who it is, heart in his mouth. Cas? _Sam_? But no, it's neither. A dark-haired man glances up from the newspaper on the table and pins him with a look. Dean groans. Audibly.

“Dean.” Jimmy stares at him with an unreadable expression and gestures to the chair opposite him. “Please. I won't keep you long.”

Fuck. When did he hand control of his life over so completely to these infernal Novak twins? Muttering curses under his breath he strides over and yanks the chair out, its metal legs screeching on his newly-polished floor. Jimmy raises an eyebrow and sips his latte. He's wearing dark-framed glasses and, oddly, a sweater belonging to Cas. It doesn't suit him, and it's jarring seeing a mix of Cas and Jimmy staring at him from across the table. Dean shakes himself mentally, folding his arms and arranging his face into an expression of neutrality.

“What's up, Jimmy?”

The other man is silent, sipping his drink again and breaking off a piece of croissant with elegant fingers. He's so different to Cas, who does everything at once: Cas would have his drink in one hand, his food in the other, have one eye on the newspaper and the other on one child while the second, no doubt, would be climbing on him and asking to share. It ruffles Dean, how composed and serene Jimmy looks. Does he know? Like, _really_ know? Has Cas been honest? Or has he pulled the wool over his eyes, like it feels he's done to Dean?

“‘What's up?’” Jimmy mimics, and there's a slightly caustic edge to his voice. “You tell me, Dean. Tell me why I've just come from yet another sleepless night at Cas’, sleepless because he's so distraught and downright _fucked_ from what's happened between you that he can barely function. Tell me why he needs me to tend to the kids because he can't collect his thoughts, why he can't sleep or eat or barely speak because of what's happened. All he does is cry, Dean. He's making himself ill.” For a moment, Jimmy’s mask slips a little and he looks haunted. “I'm… we need to talk about this.”

Hearing that Cas is in pieces burns his raw nerves. It sears them like boiling oil hitting water. His chest tightens and the walls move in a few inches. _Keep your head, Dean. Focus._

“I know what he did.” Jimmy continues, composed once more. “And I know why. And I hoped you'd understand why as well.”

“I… Jimmy, it isn't that simple.” Dean plants his hands on the table and tries to articulate is all as best he can. He doesn't know exactly what Cas has told his twin, but he assumes it's probably everything. Or almost everything. He can't even be mad about that; he's all out of mad. “I told him things. In confidence. And he betrayed that confidence.”

“He was trying to help.”

“Well, he didn't. He screwed it all up, instead. It was stupid of him.”

“Stupid, maybe, but stupid for the right reasons.” Jimmy leans forward. “Dean, you know Cas. As well as I do by now, probably. My brother is a dreamer and an idealist and a romantic at heart. He's a writer, what do you expect? They’re all the same. So focused on spinning the fairytale that little details fall through the cracks.”

“‘ _Little_ _details_?! Jimmy-”

“Let me speak.” Jimmy holds a palm up to quiet Dean and, nettled, he allows himself to be silenced. “He wants you to be happy so badly. And you are, anyone can see that. But Cas is so fixated on every aspect of your life being perfect that he can't see the wood for the damn trees. I'm not defending what he did - far from it. He got the lecture of the century from me when he was composed enough to actually take it in. And he feels horrible about it all. He loves you, Dean. Please tell me you can work this out.”

For the first time since Dean has known him, Jimmy looks scared. His eyes, blue and glittering and lined with fluttery dark lashes just like Cas’ are dark and imploring. He's frightened. Frightened for his brother and his nephews.

“I don't know if you remember,” Jimmy’s voice shakes with emotion. “But I warned you. Warned you that if you ever hurt Castiel…” He stops, and for one terrifying moment Dean thinks he's going to cry. “Can you work all this out? Can you try?”

“I _trusted_ him, Jimmy!” Dean hisses through his teeth, forcing himself not to shout. “And he just went behind my back and-”

“And he trusted _you_!” Jimmy doesn't have the same restrictions on shouting; he raises his voice and from the door to the kitchen someone subtly turns the radio up to drown them out. “He trusted you too, Dean! You don't know how hard it's been for him to let you in so completely, do you? I bet he made it look like a fucking breeze!”

“He- what?” Thrown, Dean’s rebuttal dies on his lips. “I knew it wasn't _easy_ , not after Cole, but…”

“No, it fucking wasn't. Do you know how many nights I would lie awake and talk to him while you slept on blissfully ignorant? How many times he crept outside to seek my reassurance on the phone that he wasn't betraying his kids or his dead husband by falling in love again? How he was freaking out about his kids and you and whether he was going in too hard and whether he would end up hurting you in the long run? Do you know how painful that was, to hear him be so afraid of being happy again that he had to question it, over and over, and hide his fears away and deal with them alone? No, you don't know, because he didn't want to scare you or make you feel unwelcome. But it was hard for him too, Dean, to let someone in. He loves you so much. Just… fix this, Dean. Be mad at him, be livid with him, shout, scream, whatever you have to do.” Jimmy is gathering his things now, his eyes definitely tear-filled. “Because out there-” he points out of the window in the direction of the coast road. “Is someone who would pull down the moon for you. Who would cross oceans for you. He's your family, Dean. He fucked up epically, but he did it because all he saw was a way to your happiness. Family means so much to him and he thought he could make it better. It was foolish and stupid and romantic and idiotic. Punish him if you need to, but then forgive him. Please, Dean. Try.”

Without another word, Jimmy scoops up his newspaper and heads for the door without a word. The jingle of the bell signals his departure and Dean just sits staring into space as his parting words bounce and echo around his mind.

*

He gets through the day. Gabriel, infuriated by his constant zoning out, dismisses him to the kitchen and tells him to deep clean the entire place, which he does gratefully. As he cleans, he thinks. He thinks about Sam, possibly still on his way here. Will he be shocked to see Dean? Definitely. Angry? Probably. Can they work their shit out? He doesn't know, and he wishes he shared Cas’ rose-tinted view of the situation. He thinks of Cas, crying every night. What has he told the boys? What do they think has happened? Do they miss him? Because he misses them so much that he aches for their presence. Their smiles, their cuddles, their tiny hands clutching at him and the way they make Cas laugh so much. He thinks of the letter he read, then thinks of the one Cas sent. What would he have written back to Sam, had he gotten the chance? How honest would he have been in his second letter? How honest _should_ he have been?

He finishes up his shift, realising that eight hours have gone somewhere and that he's tired and his fingers are sore and red from the cleaning products (Gabriel had chewed him out for forgetting to wear gloves) and he walks back to the motel slowly, Jimmy’s words ringing in his ears.

The weather has a chill to it now, the air cool and damp and the sky threatening rain. It's Cas’ birthday, he realises with a rush of horror. And Jimmy’s, too. And he isn't there. They're fighting. Cas hadn't been joking a few weeks ago when he swore birthdays were cursed for him and his family. A slow wave of guilt rises in Dean and he tries to shove it away. This isn't his fault. Not all of it.

Fuck.

He's exhausted by it all.

Back at the motel he packs. Slowly, and with care. He folds his clothes and the clothes belonging to Cas that he had scooped up in his frenzy. He checks out, and heads to the bus stop to wait for the next service, one that takes him almost as far as the beach house. He gets out, thanks the driver, and walks the rest of the way. The forest is loud and animate, the wind rustling the trees and darkness pulling in quickly. He walks fast, not wanting to end up disorientated in the woods at night - it reminds him too much of the last time he walked this road. Alone, numb, frightened and guilt-ridden. Those feelings are here now, but for different reasons. And this time, things don't seem so insurmountable. He has a faith he didn't have before. He has something worth fighting for. And someone he needs to see.

He sits on the beach for a while, watching the house from a distance. Low light burns in the kitchen window, and he swears he hears the sliding doors open and close a few times. The bedrooms are in darkness, and he doesn't know whether that means everyone is asleep or that nobody has gone to bed yet. He waits. An hour passes, then a second. He doesn't hear the doors again, and eventually all the lights go out.   
Then, when the desperate urge in his heart becomes too much, he gets up and walks towards the house.

*

He lets himself in quietly through the sliding doors, setting his rucksack down silently next to the sofa, trying not to wake the Novak twin sprawled out on it asleep, glasses askew and hair a mess, his lips tinted from glasses of red wine. The kitchen is a wreck, plates strewn everywhere from dinner and the smell of Thai curry in the air, one of Cas’ favourites. The kids’ toys are underfoot and he has to sidestep them. The place is never this messy, and it hurts to see everything in disarray.

He pads quietly down the corridor, struck suddenly by the memory of walking down this hallway in the dark many months ago, feverish and nervous, heading for the same bedroom he's going to now. He pauses, changing his mind for just a second. He nudges open the door to the children’s bedroom and as his gaze falls on Billie’s bed he's gripped by panic. It's empty. But then, glancing at Lexie’s bed, he sees them. Curled up together fast asleep, their faces illuminated in pink, then green, then blue from the colour-changing night-light Cas had found at the thrift store. They love that light. And he remembers Cas kneeling by their bedsides in the dark, his face cast into shadows of various shades by the light as he strokes their hair and kisses their foreheads, just watching his children sleep. He loves watching Cas watch his kids; he gets this beautiful soft look in his eyes and his whole face just lights up with love. It's the same look he's caught directed at him before and he swallows, closing the door on the twins quietly. He can wait until the morning to see them; there's someone else he needs right now. He has a million things he wants to say to Cas, and hopes he can get at least some of them out without them starting to fight. He goes over his opening words in his head as he turns towards the master bedroom. But before his hand touches the doorknob, he hears it. Someone crying, very quietly. Low, sad, resigned sniffles and cries, and he pushes the door open in trepidation.

Cas is curled in a ball on the bed, the sheets piled on top of him like a barrier to the outside world, and he's crying. Softly, a painful, pathetic sound of despair, and for a moment Dean is frozen in place. He almost pulls back and closes the door, chilled and guilt-ridden, knowing he's caused such despair. Well, partly his cause. But he can't leave. He can't walk away again. Everything he wanted to say vanishes from his mind in the presence of his lover as he watches his shoulders shake with each inhale.

He approaches the bed quietly and kneels on the edge of it, simultaneously reaching out and touching Cas gently on the shoulder. The other man starts, jerking in shock and twisting to look up at him. His eyes widen and for a moment he doesn't speak a word. Then he sits up, slowly, the covers falling away to reveal an old band t-shirt of Dean’s clinging to him, damp with sweat, and he reaches up to touch Dean’s cheek.

“You're… you're home.” His voice is ragged and harsh, and it sounds like it hurts to speak. Cas is too warm, his eyes too bloodshot and glassy, and sounds full of cold. Jimmy was right: he is making himself ill. His eyes study Dean’s and it's as though he can't quite believe what his senses are telling him.

Dean pushes back the covers, unable to stop himself, and climbs into bed fully clothed, taking Cas in his arms and holding him tightly against his chest. He buries his nose in Cas’ hair and inhales, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses and assaulting him with all the memories they've made together. In this moment, he doesn't feel anger at Cas, or pain or fury or betrayal or any of it. He just feels _home_. Where they can be together, and work this whole mess out. Together.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I'm home.”


	22. Chapter 22

Cas wakes in the night, coughing. And sneezing. And, generally, becoming pretty gross to be around. His eyes and nose are streaming and all his joints ache. Dean is there to hold him, uncaring about the sweat and snot and the fact that Cas throws up _all_ over the floor by the bed, and wraps the blankets around him from where they've fallen in a heap on the floor. He cleans up his sick without a word and climbs back into bed. Cas is burning up, but he shivers and complains of the cold. Their roles are reversed now: it’s Cas who is sick and Dean doing the caring. He wipes the sweat from Cas’ forehead and kisses his cheek, reassuring him silently that he's here.

“You hate me…” Cas murmurs nonsense as he tosses and turns, twisting sweat-damp sheets in his hands. “You left… you don't want us anymore…”

“Shh, shh Cas. That's not true. It's the fever talking.” He tries to calm Cas, pulling him close and stroking his warm skin. “What have you done to yourself, huh?” He murmurs into damp, dark hair. Cas murmurs something unintelligible against his chest. “I'm not worth getting so worked up over.”

Cas falls asleep fitfully, waking every few hours to cling to Dean and ask him repeatedly if he's dreaming. Dean doesn't sleep at all; he holds Cas as he rests, and tries not to worry. It's just a cold, or maybe the flu, that's all. Cas isn't sick the way he was sick, all those months ago… is he? If he is, Dean doesn't know how he’ll cope. How the hell did Cas cope, looking after a very, very ill stranger plus taking care of his kids and himself? Without Jimmy’s assistance? He strokes Cas’ dark, sweat-damp hair off his face - his lover looks awful. Pale, clearly hasn't bothered to shower or shave in the days since Dean left, and it looks like he's lost weight. Jimmy had warned him Cas was making himself ill, he just didn't realise quite how true that was.

Cas coughs again, this time in his sleep but hard enough to make himself retch and he wakes with a whine. The sound of hurried footsteps comes from the corridor, then a voice at the door draws their attention; Dean watches as Jimmy’s eyes widen and his lips part in shock. “ _Dean?_ When did you… is Cas OK?”

“He's feverish. Can you grab some water and a cold towel?”

Jimmy nods and vanishes, coming back a moment later with everything Dean asked for, plus a change of pyjamas for his brother and a handful of cold and flu medication. Dean eyes them warily: they're organic, homeopathic crap, and he doesn't trust them. But Cas does, so he helps him sit up and swallow a couple of round tablets while Jimmy helps strip him and gives him clean PJs to wear. Then, as Cas stands with his face buried in Jimmy’s shoulder, shivering and complaining of the cold, Dean quickly pulls the sweat-soaked sheets from the bed and throws new ones on. The noise in turn wakes the kids, who stumble across the hall and blink at them with matching sets of sleepy, curious eyes. And then…

“Dee!”

“Daddy!”

They both run at him and he kneels down to embrace them, kissing their hair and hugging them close. He whispers into their hair how much he's missed them and how awesome they are as behind him Jimmy settles a rapidly fading Cas back into bed and sits with him as he shivers and whines unhappily.

“Is daddy all right?” Lexie cranes his neck to see his father and tries to go to him. Dean stops him with a kiss to his cheek.

“He's just a bit sick, kiddo. Nothing to worry about, but he needs sleep. And you guys do, too. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll come through and tuck you in, just give me five minutes. OK?”

“OK.” Lexie tugs at his brother. “Five minutes.”

And they're gone, casting looks back over their shoulders at their parents and uncle, and Dean calls to them that he won't be long.

“Go.” Jimmy is watching him, his face carefully schooled into a neutral expression. “They've missed you. Don't make them wait any longer.”

He settles himself next to Cas, tucking his feet under him, turns on the lamp by the bed and picks up a book from the nightstand at random. Cas is already asleep again, looking less than peaceful, but at least he's resting and hopefully the medication (if you can call it that, Dean grumbles to himself) will kick in soon and he'll be back to normal tomorrow. He nods in appreciation to Jimmy, and follows the twins across the hall. They're all curled up in Lexie’s bed again, and he doesn't have the heart to separate them. He kneels down beside them and adjusts the covers until they're settled on their backs, side-by-side and holding hands.

“Are you guys OK?” Dean can't help but ask. They nod simultaneously, and a genuine smile spreads across Dean’s lips. He reaches up and strokes Billie’s hair. “Good. I'm glad. I really missed you guys.”

“Did you do lots of work?”

“Huh?” He leans over and picks up one of the bunnies. “What do you mean?”

“Uncle Jimmy said you were working hard, that's why you had to go away for a few days.” Lexie yawns, turning on his side to snuggle in to his brother.

“Oh. Yes, that's right, of course. I worked very hard, Lexie, I'm glad to be home.” He kisses both boys and, his knees protesting more than a little, stands up. “Now you guys get some shut-eye, OK? I'll make us breakfast in a few hours.”

“‘Kay.” Billie yawns too, rubbing his eyes with the back of a hand. “Why is daddy sick? Is he going to get better?”

“Hey.” And Dean is back on his knees again, once more stroking the boy’s hair back from his face. “Of course he is. He's going to be fine, it's just the flu or something. Don't worry. Promise me you'll close your eyes and count those sheep?”

“I promise. Daddy will get better now that you're home, won't he? I heard Uncle Jimmy tell him that you'd come home and everything would get better. Can you make him better?”

“I hope so, kiddo.” Misty-eyed, Dean kisses Billie on the forehead and leaves them to fall asleep. He stands at the door and waits until their breathing slows and evens out and thinks it's the sweetest thing he's ever seen, the way they curl towards each other. He's sure they're holding hands under the blankets. Making sure the night-light is on, he closes the door quietly behind him and heads back to Cas. Jimmy leaves them to it and heads back to the sofa to crash out, while Dean strips off and changes into PJs then climbs into bed and gathers Cas into his arms.

“I'm sorry,” Cas whispers into his chest, voice raw from coughing and crying. “I'm so sorry.”

“Hush. It's fine; we can talk tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“No, Dean, I can't.” Cas twists his head to look up at him, eyes full of cold and fever, and Dean pushes sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. “I thought I'd lost you. I thought you'd left us properly, that you were never coming back.”

“Thought about it.” He grunts, quietly, with no heat. “Felt like it, too, Cas. But in the end?” He traces a pattern onto the back of Cas’ shoulder. “I didn't have a choice, did I? You guys are family. And I ran away from family once before; it ain't happening again. You showed me what I can have if I wanna fight for it, and I do. I'm fucking fuming with you, but it feels better being angry and being _with_ you than being angry and apart.” To show there's no malicious intent behind his words, he presses a kiss to Cas’ forehead and the other man sighs in what can only be relief.

They've been cuddled up in bed for hours. It must be nearly sunrise; Cas’ birthday is over, and Dean feels a twinge of guilt about that. He’d had something planned. He had wanted to wake Cas up early, really early, coax him out onto the decking and watch the sun rise together. He knows they can do it some other day, but it feels tainted now. Cas has said repeatedly that he doesn’t like birthdays and this has just gone and cemented that fact.

“You’re thinking pretty hard,” Cas traces a circle onto his chest. “Are you thinking about how awful I am?”

“No, baby.” Dean tightens his embrace. “I’m thinking about how I missed your birthday.”

As expected, Cas shrugs. “I don’t care. It’s just another day. Birthdays aren’t my strong suit.” He sighs then, heavily, then coughs. “I don’t think I have many strong suits right now, huh?”

“No, Cas, I’m not letting you do this.” Dean sits up and looks down at him with as much heat as he can muster without it turning into a glare. Cas still looks sick, hot and sweaty and tired, and he doesn’t want to load too much onto him in one go. “You’re an amazing man. You’re sweet and kind and you have so much love in your heart. Sometimes… it’s just too much. You can’t fix everyone, you know?”

“I know.” Cas studies his fingernails, cheeks reddening. “I just wanted to make things right between you and Sam. I didn’t think it would all fall apart like this, and I guess I didn’t realise that I was breaking your trust as much as I did. I didn’t mean to. I just hoped…’ He trails off sadly, and Dean hugs him close again.

“I know you did. And, hey, maybe it will all turn out OK.” He tries to inject optimism into his voice. “Maybe Sam will show up and it _will_ all be rainbows and cupcakes and family reunions. It’s possible.”

Cas scoffs into his shoulder. “It’s fucking unlikely.” He coughs again and pulls a frustrated face. “I feel gross.”

“Yeah? You look kinda gross, too.” Dean can’t help but kiss him on the nose. “You definitely need a shower.”

“Mmm.” Cas snuggles down and closes his eyes. “Maybe later.”

And Dean lets him sleep. He lies awake and listens to the sound of his lover’s breathing, listens to him snuffle and cough and choke a little in his sleep when he struggles to breathe through his blocked nose. He always nudges Cas to change position when that happens, or wakes him up enough to sit him up and have him sip water. Eventually, at dawn, Dean falls asleep too.

*

But Sam doesn’t come. He doesn’t arrive the following morning nor at any point during the afternoon, and when Cas finally falls asleep on the sofa with his children snuggled up on either side of him there’s no sign of Dean’s brother. Which is a relief for all of them, because Cas is still coughing and sniffling, constantly wiping his streaming eyes and barely able to keep down more than dry crackers and water. And he’s a horrible, horrible patient. Where Dean was pretty quiet and placid as a sick person, Cas is noisy and messy and moans constantly. Jimmy had vanished by the time Dean surfaced in the morning, but an hour later returned after a frantic phone call from Dean who couldn’t cope with two crying children and a sulking Cas who was complaining his head hurt too much to listen to all the noise.

“What is wrong with him, Jimmy?” Dean gripes as he sweeps a handful of Lego up off the floor and dumps it into a box. “This is the guy who always has everything under control, the guy who took care of me plus his kids when he didn’t even know my name, and made it look so effortless. Do you have some hidden triplet I don’t know about who has taken Cas’ place?” He glances over his shoulder to make sure his boyfriend is actually asleep and not just faking. “He’s a nightmare!”

“Oh, he’s an awful patient.” Jimmy confirms cheerfully. “Utterly terrible. I’ve never head someone whine like he does when he’s got a cold. Normally he’s OK if it’s just him and the boys, he pulls himself together because he has to. But now that you’re around he’s free to milk it and be as pathetic as he likes. Luckily he hasn’t been sick much in the last few years so I haven’t had to deal with it. But the good news?” He claps Dean on the shoulder as he passes him. “You’re here now to deal with him, so I don’t have to! OK, OK,” He rolls his eyes at the death-glare he receives in response. “I don’t have to deal with him _alone_. You’re here to help.”

They collapse down into respective chairs in the living room, both of them watching Cas and the kids shift in their sleep. Billie is hugging his elephant close to his chest and his little face is still red from crying. When Dean wasn’t looking, Lexie had thrown something at Billie and they had started pushing each other and yelling, and eventually Dean had gripped them both by the back of their shirts and yanked them apart before, for the first time ever, telling them off sternly and sending them to sit at opposite ends of the sofa quietly while he got Cas into the bathroom and found him a change of clothes. When he came back, neither twin was on the sofa and he could feel irritation building inside him until he saw them: sitting on the decking with a blanket over them both, looking at a picture book together. Lexie’s finger was in his mouth and his head was on Billie’s shoulder, and Dean didn’t have the heart to reprimand them. Now, Lexie is cuddled up to his father’s side with his back to Dean, arms and legs wrapped around his dad like a koala, and he’s snoring a little in his sleep. Cas’ arm is around his back and holding him close so he doesn’t slip off the sofa; even asleep he’s still looking out for his kids.

“So… Are you guys OK?” Jimmy’s voice is low and quiet, nervous as though he doesn’t really want to know the answer. Dean toys with a loose thread on the sofa and sighs.

“No. Not really, not yet.” He doesn’t take his eyes off his sleeping partner, but he feels Jimmy’s head swivel to look at him, panic no doubt flashing across his face. “But we will be. Because what’s the other option? Splitting up? Breaking up our family?” He does turn then, to fix Jimmy with a loaded stare. Normally he would keep such honesty between himself and Cas, maybe not even that, but since Jimmy’s little speech the day before he feels like they’ve become a little closer and that the other man won’t judge him for speaking his mind. “I’ve run away once already, Jimmy. And when I did, I didn’t really have anything to fight for. Everyone had given up on me already so what reason did I have for wanting to carry on? But now…” He gestures towards the sleeping three on the couch. “I have everything I thought I’d never have. I never even imagined I’d have kids, and then these two came into my life. Or, I guess, I came into theirs.”

“If you’d truly left them, Dean, I’d never have forgiven you. I hope you know that.” Jimmy is watching his family too and Cas shifts in his sleep, pulling Lexie closer and kissing his forehead. Dean wonders what he’s dreaming about. “I’d have come and found you and either dragged you back here or probably killed you. I can’t bear to see him hurting again, not after everything. I’m so angry at Cole for what he did, and I know it’s an awful thing to say but I am. He tore Cas to bits and he’s only just recovered. I think you’ve been a huge part of it without realising, you know? I remember, a couple of years ago, he was over at my place and the kids were asleep in the spare room…” Jimmy’s voice tails off and when Dean glances at him his eyes are glassy with nostalgia. “He said he knew it was just the three of them and he knew it would be forever. I tried to tell him he would find someone else but he was so adamant. So certain that nobody would want him with the kids in tow, and so sure that he would never trust another man around his kids ever again. So I guess when you showed up, that’s why I gave you such a hard time. I didn’t trust you not to hurt him. I still don’t, Dean.” Jimmy stares at him, calculating and with a hint of sadness. “But that’s only partly your fault. The rest of it is me being too nervous to let Cas go. But I have to ask, Dean, and please be honest. Or as honest as you can. What do you want? In three, five, ten years, what do you want? Do you see your future with Cas? Can you cope with the boys when they start to grow up and turn into cranky teenagers? What happens when you and Cas fall out again, or when he fucks up in some way? Have you even thought about this stuff?”

“About the future?” Dean is so intent on answering Jimmy that he doesn’t notice Cas has turned his head and is looking at him with bright, feverish, sleepy eyes. “Jimmy, Cas _is_ my future. Without him, there probably wouldn’t be a me. He’s made me grow the hell up since we’ve been together, and now all I want is to sort all this shit out and…” He trails off, not ready to reveal his true desires to Jimmy yet. He will, soon, but right now there’s too much tension between them and too much water under the bridge. “I love him, Jimmy. It’s that simple. He’s meant to be mine, and I’m meant to be his. That’s all there is to it.” He glances at Cas, who has turned away and is doing an expert job of pretending to be asleep again. “Do you think… do you think he wants the same?”

Jimmy gets up and walks off towards the kitchen; as he passes Dean he squeezes his shoulder tightly and Dean fights the urge to reach up and grip his hand and not let go. “Dean. Of course he does. Don’t ever doubt that for one second.”

*

The nearest airport is thirty miles away. At six fifteen the next morning, while Cas, Dean, Jimmy and the children are all sleeping soundly, a domestic flight touches down and the passengers slowly disembark, making their way through the airport to greet their respective friends and family. One of those passengers is tall and serious-looking, carrying a briefcase and dressed in a smart suit, and heads straight for the Starbucks to procure a triple-shot latte and a bottle of water. He consults a folded piece of paper with a frown, then heads outside to hail a cab.

“It’s a long drive up there, nasty road.” The cab smells strongly of beets and onions, and the driver watches him in the rearview with narrowed eyes. “Not much to see. You heading somewhere special?”

“Yes, actually.” Sam Winchester settles in the back seat, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up. He frowns out of the window, lost in thought. “I’m looking for Castiel Novak.”


	23. Chapter 23

It's six fifteen in the morning and Jimmy Novak is asleep on his brother’s sofa, snoring softly. When he wakes up, he will complain about his back hurting and declare that since Cas almost seems back to full health that he is no longer needed and will be leaving after breakfast. His twin will shrug and pour more coffee, but a look of terror will cross the face of the man Jimmy is privately starting to consider his brother-in-law, and he will roll his eyes and relent, telling Dean that fine, he can stay for one more night but then he _must_ get home because he has reports to grade and an apartment to clean. Down the hall, two gorgeous little boys are fast asleep in their own respective beds, surrounded by stuffed animals. One has his finger in his mouth and is lying on his stomach with a little bunny clutched to his chest and the other is splayed on his back with an elephant in his hand, dangling off the edge of the bed. In the master bedroom, Dean and Cas are curled up under a pile of blankets, talking quietly. They've both been awake for a while: Cas woke up coughing and Dean went to fetch him a glass of water, and they haven't gone back to sleep since. Dean is tracing patterns onto the back of Cas’ hand, skirting around the topic he needs to talk about but desperately doesn't want to. Eventually, Cas gets there for him.

“Do you think he's coming?” He whispers into the dim, quiet room and Dean sighs.

“I don't know. I hope not… but at the same time…”

“You kinda want him to?”

“Yeah.” Dean sighs, letting his head fall back so he can stare at the ceiling. Cas nuzzles his neck, pressing a few open-mouthed kisses to his skin. “It's been too long already. I feel like it's time to get it all over with. If he doesn't come…”

“Then we’ll go to him,” Cas says, decisively. Then, suddenly nervous, “If you want to, that is.”

“I don't.” Dean strokes Cas’ hair, running his fingers trough the unruly strands and enjoying the noise his lover makes in response. He's almost purring. “But I know we should. If he doesn't come, we’ll go to him. You'll come, right?”

“Of course.” Cas kisses him deeply, and they lie for a moment just exploring each other's mouths and kissing deeply; Dean cups Cas’ jaw and holds him close, enjoying the sensation of them both presses against each other. He hasn't forgiven Cas, not completely, but damn he's missed him.

“What did you say to him exactly, anyway? I only ever saw his response.”

“Oh.” Cas flushes, remembering their fight no doubt. “It was only a short letter. I told him I was writing a new novel and I had been moved by your story, and I asked him to get in touch. That was it, really. I wasn't expecting such a… over-zealous response. I wasn't expecting him to reply at all if I'm honest.” He pauses, swallows, and clings a little more. “It’ll be OK, Dean. You know that, right?”

“No, Cas, honestly I don't. I don't have a clue how it will be when I see him. I don't know whether I'll knock him out or give him a bear hug. Neither? Both?”

“I'll punch him, you can hug him,” Cas smirks wickedly. “Can't lie: I've been dreaming about doing that. Making him pay for hurting you.”

“You do that,” Dean traces Cas’ bottom lip with his tongue. “Whatever makes you happy.”

He can't figure out quite why Cas blushes, smiles, and hides his face when he says that but he doesn't have much time to think about it. The boys stumble in through the door and clamber up onto the bed; Lexie snuggles down against Dean and presses a shy kiss to his cheek while Billie wriggles himself in between them both and sighs contentedly, closing his eyes to get a few more minutes sleep. Cas throws a rueful smile over the heads of his children; Dean grins back and wraps his arms around Lexie in a bear hug. This is what he wants, forever. This is his future.

He only hopes Sam can be a part of it too. Fear gnaws at his insides and he can't sleep; instead, he watches his family sleep until Cas wakes up coughing and sniffling moments before the alarm clamours for attention.

*

After breakfast when Dean has dropped the kids off at kindergarten and made his way back home, Jimmy is out on the decking, picking up the kids’ toys and grumbling to himself about the mess. Cas and Dean can hear him through the open bedroom window, and both of them hide smiles behind their hands and look away from each other to stop themselves bursting out in laughter. Cas descends into a coughing fit, and Dean rubs his back sympathetically.

“We should probably go help. Come on.” Dean sits up, taking Cas’ hand and attempting to pull him up with him, but Cas has taken on the weight of an elephant and doesn't seem to want to move. He had come back to bed under duress when Cas begged him for another ten minutes and hasn't moved since. He now feels pretty bad on Jimmy, and reaches for his jeans.

“Nooo, he's fine, Dean, let’s stay here.” He coughs, this time pathetically. “I'm sick, remember?”

From outside comes a yelp and a curse, followed by Jimmy moaning about Lego pieces everywhere and they can't help it: they both burst into laughter and Cas sits up, shaking his head and grinning.

“All right, I'm coming. Let’s go save my brother from the attack of the Lego.”

From outside comes a very disgruntled, “I heard that!” and they make their way down the corridor together, hiding giggles behind their hands like children. Dean grips Cas’ hand suddenly, drawing him to a halt, and presses a kiss to his cheek. Cas’ eyes widen in surprise and Dean just shrugs. In response, Cas wraps both arms around Dean’s neck and kisses him, hard, and they smile against each other's lips. Dean’s hands come up the inside of Cas’ shirt, tickling him gently and Cas lets out a very unmanly shriek of laughter, simultaneously trying to push Dean away and pull him closer. This feels like them again. Like the insurmountable issues between them are dissolving, like they really can be back to the way they were.

They're so caught up in acting like drunk teenagers that they don't hear the crunch of gravel as a car pulls up outside.

They make it almost all the way to the kitchen just as Jimmy pulls the sliding doors open and sends them both a glare, his arms full of toys. “What am I, your maid?”

“Nah,” Cas smirks, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. “The uniform would look terrible on you and the service isn't up to scratch. You'd be fired on day one.”

“Screw you,” Jimmy smiles in spite of himself and turns to dump the toys on the sofa. He's in a tailored pale pink shirt with the sleeves rolled up - the Jimmy Novak version of casual and for the first time since meeting him Dean can't deny it: Cas’ brother looks hot. Before any of them can speak again, there comes a sound from the glass doors and a figure appears silhouetted against the morning sun. Someone tall with long limbs and floppy hair, and that someone raises their hand to knock hesitantly on the glass. All three of them freeze in shock as a low, smooth voice cuts into the room.

“Castiel? Castiel Novak?”

Dean doesn't mean to do what he does. He doesn't mean to grip Cas’ arm and shove him bodily back down the corridor, following him just in time before Sam can spot them. He can't help it, it's a visceral reaction; fear takes over. Fear of Sam and how he will react, but also the desire to protect Cas from anything that might - and likely _will_ \- go sideways. Cas gapes and tries to push back against him, but from the living room they hear Jimmy stutter out a reply.

“I… uhm… who's asking?”

“I'm Sam Winchester.” Dean can just picture his brother extending a hand, the epitome of gentlemanly politeness. His hands start to shake and he balls them into fists against Cas’ back, holding him close - more to stop himself freaking out than anything else. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Castiel. I'm a big fan of your work.”

It's evident immediately that Sam hasn't spotted them, and that he's made the error of assuming that Jimmy is Cas. Dean’s heart beats out a staccato rhythm of relief; he can take five and collect his thoughts while Jimmy keeps his brother at bay.

“Oh. Uhm.” They can just see Jimmy past the corner of the hallway, his arm jerking in response to a firm handshake, and he shoots a furtive look in their direction, silently asking ‘what the fuck’ and pleading with Cas to come out and take over. Dean grips Cas’ arm tightly and shakes his head just a little while Cas stares up at him, wide-eyed. _Fuck, what am I doing? Jimmy can't pretend to be his twin, this is ridiculous! Buckle up, Dean, and get out there!_

Jimmy lets out a low, long-suffering sigh and turns back to Sam. “Castiel. Yes, that's me. I’m Castiel. Won't you come in?”

And there it is. Jimmy resigning and stepping into the role of covering for his twin even though none of them - Jimmy included - have a clue why he's doing it. Dean drags Cas back another step, heart in his mouth, and presses a finger to his lover’s lips as Cas begins to hiss out a protest.

“Just… I need a minute, baby, please,” He whispers into Cas’ dark hair, pulling him close. “Just give me a second.”

“But Jimmy-”

“It's OK. He’ll be fine, they can make small talk, just… _one_ minute, Cas, please?” He needs to collect his thoughts, form a plan, put his guard up. He can't do that in two seconds flat. Dammit, _why_ hasn't he been preparing for this? Why did he let himself get so lost in Cas again, he was supposed to come home and get ready for seeing his brother and instead… He tries to breathe deeply, tries not to blame Cas for being sick and splitting his attention; hell, he tries not to blame Cas at all for this. Now is neither the time or the place for blame.

“Fine. But one minute, Dean, then we need to go out there and face this. Together. No arguments.” His lover glares up at him, then his attention turns back to the living room and he cranes his neck to see around the corner where Jimmy has taken a seat on the sofa, no doubt opposite Sam who is still hidden from view behind the wall.

“The town is lovely, Castiel. You have a wonderful home. I stopped for breakfast at a little cafe on Main Street, it was really quite charming.”

Shit. Likely the very same cafe Dean works in and has thankfully had time off from after he told Gabriel a sob story about Cas being ill. If he had been there this morning when Sam walked in…

“So, I've read all your books,” Sam continues briskly before Jimmy can reply, and Dean rolls his eyes. Of course he has, nerd. Cas notices and elbows him in the ribs indignantly. “So when you contacted me, of course I wanted to help. But the subject of Dean is…” He breaks off, and they wait with bated breath for him to continue. “Difficult, to say the least. May I?”

“Go right ahead,” Jimmy says, and they hear the plastic cap of a water bottle being unscrewed. Jimmy throws another subtle glare in their direction, very likely telling Cas telepathically to _get the hell out here_ through their twin connection thing. Beside him, Cas points to Dean, shrugging with his palms up to the ceiling, and he just _knows_ Cas is getting some bizarre kick out of this. Fucker. Dean grits his teeth as his brother speaks again, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from walking out there.

“You know that I lost my brother some time ago now,” There's a wistful, regretful tone to Sam’s voice and Dean swallows hard, balling his hands into fists. Leave it to Sam to skip the small talk and just dive right in. Cas’ hand comes to rest on his lower back, warm and comforting. “And I'll be honest with you, I didn't think I'd be able to discuss him with you. It's all still too painful. But then Jess - she's my wife, my heavily pregnant wife,” Dean inhales sharply at this. His brother is… going to be… a dad _?_ And he had no idea... He does a quick mental calculation. Why did Sam never tell him... His eyes mist up a little and he blinks rapidly to clear them. Sam sounds so… happy. “She convinced me that it would be good to discuss it all. That it might help me get some closure. Of course, I can't stay long because the baby is due in a few weeks and who knows what could happen, but she talked me into coming. She can be pretty forceful when she wants to be.” He can hear the warm smile in Sam’s voice.

Dean shuts his eyes and leans against the wall. Hearing Sam’s voice again is bringing back a flood of memories, some good and some so painful he feels like someone is reaching into his chest and twisting his heart. He remembers laughing with his brother when they were younger, remembers hugging Sam when he got into law school and telling him he always knew he was the smart one. Remembers fighting with Sam when he missed birthdays or Thanksgiving because he had to work to put food on their table and pay tuition fees while Sammy studied hard and enjoyed college life. He remembers Sam at graduation, throwing his cap at Dean and grinning that huge, wolfish smile and laughing. Laughing so much. Then Sam moving away, and the distance between them opening up as his brother shot to the peak of his career and Dean was left behind in the dirt. The phone call, Sam’s horrified voice… The sorrow when he left Dean alone in that tiny town, turning and walking away and saying ‘later, Dean’ without knowing that he was really saying a final goodbye…

“Dean was…” Sam searches for the words. “Such a good person, he really was. And I don't think I ever really gave him credit for that. It's always the same, right? You never really know how much someone means to you until you lose them… but Dean was a great guy, he really was. It was so unfortunate, the accident.” _Unfortunate_. That's one word for it. Dean’s jaw tightens and he doesn't know whether the stinging of his eyes is due to emotion brought on by Sam’s words of kindness about him or the total lack of understanding that his brother _still_ evidently holds about the whole situation. _Unfortunate._ Sam is still talking. “How much so you know about what happened?”

“Enough.” Jimmy’s face is a mask of stone, impassive and cold now, and the bolt of his jaw works as he clenches his teeth. He's clearly as nettled by Sam’s words as Dean is. “I know there was a tragic accident, and a little girl died. I know it wasn't Dean’s fault. I know everyone he ever cared about left him out in the cold and carried on with their lives.”

Next to him, Cas inhales sharply and his hand find Dean’s, squeezing tightly. He feels a strong wave of affection for Jimmy, and vows to thank him later.

“That's… not exactly how it happened.” Sam sounds rattled, and rightly so. “The press certainly didn't help, but we were there for Dean. All of us. We did what we could to help in a difficult situation.”

“Really?” The scepticism in Jimmy’s voice is layers thick, and his voice could freeze boiling water. “That's not how I heard it.”

He flinches. Jimmy is dangerously close to revealing that he hears things first-hand and that won't be the best way for Sam to find out he's alive. He's thinking quickly, desperately, sensing the situation spiralling and knows he needs to do something to intervene. But _what_? Stroll out there and shout ‘surprise’? Send Cas out? _What_ should he do? He can feel panic starting to simmer in his stomach, his chest tightening and his throat closing up. This is _not_ what he wanted, far from it. Cas squeezes his hand again.

“I guess I just thought…” Sam exhales and Dean can picture him running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit his brother has had since childhood. “That he was all right. That he would get over it, and that if I made even more of a big deal out of it then it would only make it worse. I figured he would want to forget about it and move on. I thought he would be fine-”

“How could you possibly think that?” Jimmy interrupts, and his polite voice is now dangerously laced with ice. Sam falters and pauses for a second.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, how could you possibly think that?” Jimmy’s voice is cold and diamond-hard, and Dean can't hold in a shiver. Cas’ hand comes to his arm, and his mouth to his ear.

“You've never seen my brother angry before. He's terrifying.”

“He was pretty angry with me in the cafe,” Dean stage-whispers back, but Cas just shakes his head.

“You'd _know_ if he was truly angry with you. Believe me. Although,” With a slightly concerned expression, Cas peeks down the hallway again. “You might be about to get an advanced showing.”

“Someone _died_ , Sam. A little girl! And it wasn't Dean’s fault but he was involved! And you… you _abandoned_ him!”

“What? I- I didn't!”

Sam sounds utterly floored by this accusation and it's all Dean can do not to go out there, grab his giant of a brother by the shoulders and scream at him, _yes you did! You did, you fucker, how could you not realise that?!_ At the same time he's touched by Jimmy’s ire on his behalf and finds he isn't as angry as he thought to find out that Jimmy knows everything. When he found out, Dean doesn't know nor care but he's willing to bet that everything came spilling out that night he walked out on Cas. He can't even be mad about it; Jimmy’s righteous fury in his defence is kinda awesome. Almost like having another brother. Next to him, Cas sniffles and it could be his cold or it could be something else and Dean doesn't dare look at him.

“You did.” Jimmy stands, clearly just for want of something to do as his agitation is clear on his face - the scraping of a chair signals that Sam has risen too. “He was going through the worst days of his life and you just… walked away. How could you live with yourself? How _can_ you live with yourself?” It doesn't take a genius to know that Jimmy is imagining Cas at his lowest, remembering how his brother was after losing Cole and - Dean realises with a stab of guilt - over the last few days when he thought he had been abandoned again, and is likely imagining himself attempting to walk away and finding the mere idea too sour to stomach. “I just… yeah. It's beyond me. I could never do that to my brother in a million years. And when I think about what Dean has been through…”

Next to him, Cas flinches and a whispered, ‘fuck’ leaves his lips. Dean registers why a split second later - and so does Sam.

“Wait - what Dean _has_ been through? What do you mean, _has_?” Sam’s voice has changed, now laced with shock and anger. He no doubt didn't expect to be interrogated himself, with such fury and passion, and Dean knows his brother won't be taking to it well. For a moment, nobody speaks and nobody moves. Into the sudden, loaded silence comes an electronic peal. Jimmy’s phone is ringing and a look of relief washes over his face as he no doubt fields a piercing glare from Sam.

“I have to take this. Excuse me a second.” From down the corridor, the panic on Jimmy’s face is evident as he turns away and presses the phone to his ear. And that panic probably accounts for what he says next: “Hello? Yes? Oh hi, yes, this is Jimmy speaking…”

At once, Cas, Dean and Jimmy realise his mistake. And so does Sam. A hissed, “ _what?!”_ leaves his lips and Dean can just imagine his brother’s forehead furrowing, his face clouding and reddening with anger as he realises he's been deceived. Beside him, Cas mutters curses under his breath and Jimmy just freezes, staring into space, before composing himself enough to say, “I'll have to call you back,” into his phone before hanging up. Dean sees an arm shoot out to grab his shoulder and Jimmy is spun around to face Sam. He feels Cas tense next to him, and a quick glance to his left reveals anger on his lover’s face. A protective anger; he's worried for his twin.

“You're not Castiel Novak.” Sam’s tone is acidic and accusatory and leaves no room for argument. He advances on Jimmy, backing him up towards the kitchen, and Jimmy pales visibly, unused to conflict if it's not in the form of his twin. A low, threatening sound akin to a growl comes from next to Dean and he reaches blindly for Cas’ hand. He holds it tight when he finds it: Cas is shaking, vibrating with barely suppressed emotion. “And from what it sounds like, you know more about my brother than you're letting on. You better start explaining to me what the hell is going on here, or I’ll-”

Whatever Sam is planning to do to Jimmy, they never get to find out. A piercing, fury-filled voice cuts through the room like ice.

“No. He isn't Castiel Novak.”

Cas’ voice is clear and strong - and is no longer coming from beside Dean. Cas is striding towards them, and cold fury is flowing off him in waves. He reaches Sam and Dean can _feel_ the glare he's giving him; being half a foot shorter than Sam doesn't seem to quell his anger one bit. In fact, if he knows Cas, being forced to look up to confront him will just spur him on more. He's not wrong...

“ _I_ am.”

There's a pause. A quiet, still moment during which Sam stares down at Cas with marked dislike while Jimmy just looks back and forth between them with wide eyes, then casts a glance down the hallway towards Dean. Then, before anyone can stop him or even register what's happening, Cas draws an arm back and, not pulling his force even one bit, drives his fist straight into Sam’s face.


	24. Chapter 24

Castiel doesn't stop after one punch. It's as though the rush of finally taking his anger and resentment out on the object of his feelings has given way to a desire to cause the other man as much pain as possible. He goes for Sam again, this time shoving him viciously while Sam stumbles backwards clutching his jaw, and lays into him again. The sound of bone striking bone makes a sickening crack that echoes through the room in the wake of Sam’s startled cry. Sam takes a third hit to the face, right on the nose, and Cas’ hand comes away streaked with blood. The younger Winchester catches his leg on the coffee table and goes down, hard, and that's when both Dean and Jimmy suddenly snap out of their horrified trances and both lunge for Cas.

“Stop it! What the hell are you doing?!”

“No! Cas, _don't_!”

Dean is barely aware of his own voice cutting through the room; all he's aware of is the feeling of Cas’ muscled upper arms beneath his hands as he grips him and draws him backwards, and the shocked yelps coming from his brother as a fury-filled Cas continues to try and rain blows down on him, struggling against Dean like a wildcat.

“ _No,_ Dean, let me! He _deserves_ it, for everything he's put you through! For threatening Jimmy! He _deserves_ it!”

“Cas, for fuck’s sake! Jesus!” Jimmy joins in, pushing Dean out of the way and gripping Cas by the back of his shirt and dragging him away from Sam. He really has to fight to keep Cas back, and positions himself between his twin and the Winchesters, who are both staring at Cas with open mouths - Sam from his position on his ass on the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Jimmy, move! Let me go! He deserves it after everything he's done to Dean! Let _go_!”

Cas tries again and once more Jimmy blocks him with his body, wrapping his arms around his twin’s waist and bodily dragging him towards the kitchen. The look on Cas’ face is wild; his eyes are red and tear-filled and all the colour has drained from his cheeks. It's likely that all the exhaustion, tension, worry and fear from the last few days has finally come to a head, and Dean can't help but feel a little freaked. He's reminded of the way Cas acted that day when they came home from the hospital, pushing him over and over relentlessly, the picture of anger and distress like he is right now. With one last firm shove, Jimmy jams Cas against the fridge and holds him there, allowing his brother to twist and shove and writhe in his grasp and continue to spit obscenities in Sam’s direction but not letting him go; it's the same thing he's seen Jimmy do when Billie or Lexie has thrown a tantrum about something, hold them until their energy wears out. He's shocked to see that it works on Cas, who eventually seems to run out of steam; his hands come up to grip the back of Jimmy’s shirt and he presses into his twin, stricken and gasping.

“He deserves it, Jimmy, he doesn't deserve to be here. He doesn't deserve Dean…”

“I know that,” Jimmy’s voice is forcibly calm and measured, and he still doesn't release Cas. “But let Dean deal with this and calm down. This isn't about you right now.”

And with that, all eyes shift to Dean who is standing in the middle of the room with one hand still outstretched towards Cas, and he's filled with a sudden horror as he realises Sam is staring directly up at him; for the first time in months they're only feet apart, and that his brother has now had the jarring realisation that Dean is, in fact, very much alive. His mouth runs dry and he doesn't dare turn to look at Sam. It's easier to look at Cas, who is clinging tightly to Jimmy and staring over his shoulder at him with reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks; it's easier to stare at the back of Jimmy’s head as he holds Cas gently but firmly against the fridge, murmuring something to his twin in an attempt to soothe him. But when Sam speaks, Dean can't hold out anymore.

“Dean…?”

Sam sounds so… lost. So utterly floored by the sight of his older brother standing over him, the older brother he had assumed dead until thirty seconds ago, and it's the note of devastation mixed with disbelief that finally draws Dean’s gaze. Sam is on the floor, propped up on his elbows, more tanned than Dean remembers and nursing a split lip and a bloody nose thanks to Cas’ efforts. And he's staring up at him as though he's seen a ghost.

“You're… you… it's really you.” Sam doesn't move, doesn't make an attempt to get up; he just gazes up at his older brother with round, shocked eyes and Dean feels a pang of guilt and regret balled up with relief as he stares down at him. Sam's here. Sam knows. The moment he's been so terrified of and has dreaded for so long is here and he feels strangely… calm.

“Get up, Sasquatch.” He extends a hand to Sam who reaches for it, still wide-eyed and staring. “I can't believe you let Cas take you down…”

An irritated noise comes from the fridge but Dean ignores it. Sam allows his brother to haul him to his feet and presses a hand to his face to assess the extent of the damage. “He's strong, OK? And I wasn't expecting to have the crap beaten out of me.”

He straightens up and Dean grabs a towel from the kitchen counter, handing it awkwardly to his brother and furiously avoiding his gaze. He wants to do and say a million things right now. He wants to grab Sam by the collar and scream at him until his voice runs out, and he wants to turn and run back to their bedroom and hide under the covers and never come out. But he also really, really wants to hug Sam. He doesn't do any of those things, however, because none of them feels quite right. Behind him, he hears Cas whine about something and Jimmy reply with, “Well, what did you think would happen? You're awful at throwing a punch anyway, God knows what you were thinking.” Cas murmurs something indistinguishable and Jimmy sighs. “Fine. Let me look at your hand, go sit down.”

“Dean… you're… what the hell is going on?” Sam has wiped most of the blood from his face and is pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression. “How are you… you're _alive?_ I just… can't believe this.” His shock seems to give way then to anger, and Dean flinches and has to stop himself from backing away. “You're _alive_? And you let us all believe for _months_ that you were gone? How the hell could you do that to us, Dean? To all of us? Jess, Bobby, Benny, _me?_ We had a fucking _memorial_ for you, man! The cops said there was no way you could have survived that crash… did you _fake_ it?”

“No, not exactly.” He gestures to the chair behind Sam and his brother wordlessly backs up until his legs hit it and he sits down hurriedly. Dean takes a seat on the sofa opposite him, ignoring the twins fussing about in the kitchen as Jimmy tapes two of Cas’ fingers together. He can feel Castiel’s stony gaze on them both and isn't sure if he would prefer to be alone with Sam or not. At least this way there are witnesses if his brother loses his shit and decides to strangle him for his efforts. The scrape of chairs from the kitchen signals that the twins have finally sat down, and a quick glance in their direction shows two sets of identically icy eyes trained on them; Jimmy has Cas’ bandages hand in his lap and is frowning. Cas looks mutinous.

“Dean?” Sam prompts him again, and Dean is reminded of his kid brother years ago, asking Dean why they couldn’t have Thanksgiving and Christmas like normal families. Or why he had to leave the friends he had made so they could move schools again. There’s a childish note of fear in Sam’s voice, like he thinks this is all some sort of illusion or trick, or a huge cosmic joke at his expense. It’s that which prompts Dean to reply.

“It’s really me, Sammy. And…” He can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face as he looks at his brother. Sam Winchester the Superstar Lawyer. His brother, sitting in Cas’ living room in the flesh. Nothing has ever felt so surreal. “It’s great to see you man. You look good.”

“I ‘look good.’” Sam repeats with a note of disbelief. “You… I ‘ _look good_ ’? Jesus, Dean! I’ve been through hell here and that’s the best you can come up with?”

A snort comes from one of the twins but Dean ignores it. “I don’t know what to tell you, man, I just… I’ve missed you. All this has been… yeah. Kinda rough, to tell the truth. On both of us, I know. But… yeah.” He’s screwing this up, he knows he is. But all the panic and anxiety and adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins at the mere thought of facing Sam is draining away and he feels oddly euphoric and dizzy with the loss. He rubs a hand over his face and realises it’s shaking. Sam is _here_. And so is Dean. And that means they have a chance at reconciliation.

*

“I never meant to deceive you, man.” Dean says to his hands, some time later. They’ve been watching each other in silence, taking in things that have changed and things that have remained the same in during their time apart. Sam hasn’t altered much; he’s still well-dressed and presentable, still holds himself with the grace and confidence of a successful career man, and Dean still feels just a little scruffy in comparison. But that’s a comfort to him, in a way. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted to get in contact with you, I really did. Every day. But the more time passed the harder it became. You thought I was dead; how could I possibly just call you up out of the blue?”

“It would have been better than just letting me believe you were gone all these months!” Sam snaps hotly. “Do you have any idea how fucking awful these last few months have been?”

“Yeah, I do, because it’s been hellish for me too!” Dean ignores Cas’ exhale from behind him; he hears Jimmy whack him on the arm and shush him. “In fact, the last _year_ has been pretty goddamn awful, but you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?” His relief has given way to indignant, swelling anger and a scowl descends over his face. “Didn’t exactly see much of you while the trial was going on did I?”

“Dean, you know I couldn’t… I explained about that!” Sam actually has the nerve to look pissed. “I tried to support you, I really did-“

“Not hard enough,” Cas snaps and Sam glares. “You should have been by his side every goddamn second! Why weren’t you?”

“You stay out of this, you don't know the first thing-”

“Yes, I do!” Cas attempts to get up but Jimmy jerks his arm, hard, and keeps him in his seat. “I know exactly what went on, Dean has told me everything.”

“Why would he tell _you_ anything? He barely knows you! Jeez,” Sam shakes his head in disbelief at Cas. “Dean, what the hell is going on here? Why are you _here_ of all places?”

“I can explain it all, Sammy. Really. Just… give me a chance.”

“I think he owes you an explanation or two as well.” Jimmy’s voice is surprisingly calm, and it's evident he's trying to soothe the situation. “From what I've heard, at least.”

Sam scowls but doesn't argue. Instead, he stares back at Dean again and waits, impatiently, for more.

Dean is quiet for a moment, studying his hands. “Jess is pregnant.” He glances up at his brother who has blanched and now looks away. “You didn't say anything.”

“I wanted to tell you, man. So much.” There's something in Sam’s voice, making it thick and emotive, and Dean believes him. “But you were going through so much shit and… I dunno, it felt like I'd be rubbing it in your face. Plus,” he laughs wryly. “You hate kids anyway, so I didn't think it would be a big deal.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something in return, but from the other side of the room Cas bites out, “Dean _loves_ kids. He's fantastic with them. Shows how well you know him.”

“Excuse me?” Sam’s head swivels in the direction of the twins, and his brow furrows as if he's uncertain which one had addressed him - they both wear identical glares. Jimmy is still holding Cas’ hand on his knee. “I think I know my brother better than you do, buddy. And Dean is terrible with kids, always has been. It's not a secret.”

“Yet he raised you, from what I hear.” Jimmy this time, ice-cold, and Dean feels a swell of love for him. “And went without things so that you could have the life you've now got. That's the sign of a good parent, in my eyes.”

“I don't know Jimmy, look how he turned out. He kinda sucks,” Cas, sneering. “Maybe Dean’s worse with kids than we think.”

“Look, why don't you two just-”

“Guys, just stop. Please.” Dean is exhausted, and the sniping and jibing going back and forth between Sam and the twins is like salt in raw wounds. “Quit bitching at each other, I can't take this shit anymore.”

“Me?” Sam looks appalled to be included in Dean’s statement. “Tell them! Why am I included? Can't you hear the shit they're coming out with?”

“Sam, watch your mouth. He's your brother. And you've got some serious making-up to do. You should show him some respect.” Cas’ voice is low, fierce and intense, and it sends a shiver of excitement down Dean’s spine.

“You aren't in a position to tell me how to talk to my own damn brother. You don't think Dean has some making up to do, too? You don't think _I've_ suffered as a result of this fiasco as well?” Sam is indignant and enraged by what he perceives as Castiel’s audacity. “And why you're goddamn fixated on how Dean is with kids is past my understanding-” Jimmy mutters, ‘clearly’ and Cas grins. “But if you could stop being such a goddamn asshole for two fucking seconds so I can talk to my brother-”

“Why? Because we've got two kids together, that's why!” Cas suddenly explodes from his position on the stool at Jimmy’s side. Sam freezes, turns slowly to stare at Cas with wide, disbelieving eyes. Dean’s heart swells three sizes in his chest at Cas’ words and he stares at his partner with shocked, undisguised adoration. “Yeah, you heard that right. We have two kids, two sons, so you can take all your comments about Dean’s skills as a father and as a fucking _person_ and you can shove them up your-”

“Cas!” Jimmy cuts in, gripping his twin and dragging him off his stool, to the other side of the kitchen. Even further away from Dean and Sam. He gestures to his watch with a meaningful glare. “It's kicking-out time at kindergarten. Let’s go get the boys.”

“And leave Dean alone here with _him?_ ” Cas balks, as Dean knew he would. “No chance.”

“ _Yes_ , leave Dean alone with Sam. He's his _brother._ They need an hour or two alone to talk and patch things up, or whatever they plan to do, without you constantly interrupting every five minutes. Get your jacket. _Now_ , Cas.” Jimmy gives Cas a gentle push, silencing his twin with a glare as Cas opens his mouth to argue. He shuts it with a snap, sends Sam a glare cold enough to freeze fire, and stalks off towards the bedroom.

Five minutes later, Jimmy is dragging Cas by his elbow out of the door and calling to the Winchesters that they'll be gone for at least two hours, then the door closes on Cas’ bitching as Dean is alone with his brother for the first time in as long as he can remember.

*

“Dean, what…” Sam trails off, a million questions running through his mind and he clearly has no clue where to start. His immediate thought seems to be that Cas is clearly completely fucking crazy. “He just said you guys have… kids together. He can't be serious, no way. _Kids_? _You two?_ You've only been gone five months, if that, and I just…” Sam runs an agitated hand through his hair then has what Dean used to jokingly call a lightbulb moment and declares, “He’s insane. He's insane, right? Oh God, is he holding you captive? Is that why you've been out of contact? It is, isn't it? He's some crazed psycho and he's holding you against your will. Jesus. Dean, look, let’s just go, right now, come on. I can get you out of here, away from him, come _on…”_

Sam shoves his chair back almost violently and reaches for Dean, who can't help it: he gazes up at Sam and the look of sudden conviction in his eyes does it. He laughs. He drops his head into his hands and he _laughs_ , full-bodied laughter, and he feels Sam’s eyes on him like laser beams.

“Dude… what the hell is wrong with you? What can possibly be funny?”

“Sam, I just… I'm sorry. Your concern means a lot to me, man, it really does. But the idea of Cas as some kind of reversed Annie Wilkes… it tickled me, man. It did. Cas is…” Dean runs a hand over his face and gestures to the chair behind Sam. “Sit down, man. I ain't going anywhere and neither are you. Cas isn't crazy. Cas saved my goddamn _life,_ Sam. Jesus, where do I even start?”

“Try the beginning.” Sam folds his arms and pins his brother with a penetrating gaze. “Why did the Impala end up waterlogged and where were you when it happened?”

And, in faltering words and half-formed sentences, Dean begins to tell him everything.

*

Cas and Jimmy don't come back until almost four hours later, and when they do they bring with them two sleepy children and two paper bags filled with delicious-smelling food. Jimmy comes in first, quietly, and eyes Sam and Dean with wary trepidation. The Winchesters are sitting at the breakfast bar with four empty beer bottles in front of them and aren't saying much. Sam is sporting a black eye and a split lip from Cas’ efforts, and he looks tired and drained. Dean’s eyes and nose are red and he looks equally exhausted but more at peace than Jimmy has ever seen him. Dean smiles at him as he enters and Sam gives him a nod as he places the bags on the counter and nudges them closer.

“Get some plates out, would you? We’re starving, don't know about you guys.”

“Yeah.” Dean wipes his nose on the back of his hand and slides off his chair. Sam moves to follow him and he waves a hand to tell him to stay out. “We are. Thanks Jimmy, you're a godsend.”

“It was Cas’ idea.” Jimmy shrugs. “He thought that if the pair of you hadn't torn each other to shreds that you'd probably be hungry. Yeah, I know, I almost fell on my ass too when he said it. I think he's rescinded his demand for your head on a stick.” Jimmy addresses Sam with the barest hint of a smile, and the younger Winchester reddens and makes a valiant attempt to return it. “He's outside with the boys. They've eaten dinner and are about ready for bed.” He casts a doubtful look at Sam. “Are they OK to come in, or…?”

“Of course.” Dean digs in a drawer for cutlery. “I want to see them. And… I want them to meet my brother.”

“All right.” Jimmy doesn't look quite convinced but he heads towards the door and sticks his head out. And _now_ Dean feels nervous, and oddly enough it has nothing to do with Cas. He knows his partner will have calmed down sufficiently now, and would never cause a scene in front of his children. It's the boys’ reaction to Sam he's worried about.

Cas walks in with Lexie on one hip, dozing quietly against his shoulder, and Billie at his side holding hands. He casts Sam a quick baleful glance but then his focus is entirely on Dean - and his silence alone is evidence that he's very likely under strict orders from his twin to behave himself and not cause any more undue trauma. His blue eyes are searching, probing, locked with Dean’s green gaze to try and ascertain if he's all right or not. Dean sends him the warmest, calmest smile he can manage and it seems to satisfy Cas somewhat and he turns and deposits Lexie on the sofa. The boy blinks up at him through dark lashes, sleepy and confused, then searches out Dean. He reaches for him as he approaches, and Dean swings him up into his arms just as the boy says, “Daddy, missed you.”

Sam has evidently just taken a sip of his beer to steady his nerves, because a wet choking sound comes from the kitchen and both Cas and Jimmy send sharp glances in his direction, but Dean just turns to his brother and angles Lexie’s face in his direction.

“Sam, this is Lexie. And this is Billie, his twin brother. Yeah, I know, twin overload.” He smiles encouragingly, trying to keep the mood light and Sam nods at the kids jerkily.

“Nice to meet you guys.”

Billie gives a shy smile and turns to push his face into Cas’ thigh, yawning hugely. Cas scoops him up and ruffles his hair possessively, never taking his eyes off Sam for a second. Lexie, as they all suspected, stares wide-eyed at Sam then buries his head in Dean’s neck and clings even closer. He's hit with deja vu as the memory surfaces of Lexie doing exactly the same thing to Cas upon laying eyes on _him_ all those months ago. Sam is looking between the two kids then at Dean with undisguised shock - it's clear he wasn't expecting Cas to be correct with his statement about Dean’s skills with children.

“Right!” Jimmy’s attempt at upbeat falls a little flat. “Dinner. Cas, Dean, you guys put the boys to bed and Sam and I can handle dinner. Right, Sam?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. If it's OK for me to stay.” Sam glances furtively at Cas who just shrugs and heads down the hall with Billie yawning widely and dramatically every couple of steps. Dean pauses for a second, raises an eyebrow at Sam who nods at him to say _it's fine, go_ and he follows Cas to the twins’ bedroom where the lights are already dimmed and the night light is blinking soothingly. Dean contemplates just crawling into one of the beds himself, dragging Cas and the twins in with him and dropping off to sleep after the trying events of the day.

Lexie nuzzles into Dean’s neck and sighs contentedly, and this right here is one of Dean’s favourite things. Cuddling his kids, when they're tired and drowsy and just want to be held. _His_ kids. Damn. He can't help grinning and Cas raises a questioning eyebrow as he sits Billie down on the bed and starts to undress him. The kid is rapidly falling asleep and keeps lolling forward into his arms, and Cas is doing his thing of simultaneously supporting Billie, yanking his t-shirt off, pulling the sheets back and fluffing up his pillows.

“Nothing,” Dean leans over to kiss him. “Just… happy. That's all.”

“Are you guys OK?” Cas looks warily up at him, unconvinced and clearly itching to know absolutely everything. He hopes his eyes aren't as red anymore; he doesn't really want Cas to know just how much he had broken down when talking to Sam. Something tells him to keep that private between the two of them. “Are _you_ OK, Dean? Really?”

“Not really, Cas.” Using one arm to support Lexie, Dean wraps the other around Cas’ shoulders and pulls him close. “It's going to take a while, we both know that. But… We’re gonna be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually kinda unsatisfied with this chapter... but really keen on the next one, so stay tuned ;)   
> It may be a day or two before I can post it though since I'm super sick and have to go back to hospital Monday for a scan ugh. #wouldratherbewriting


	25. Chapter 25

It's early the next morning, and Sam Winchester is dressing in the spare bedroom of the Novak house with some trepidation. He's had a sleepless night after the events of the day before. Discovering Dean alive and well had been the shock of his life; couple that with Castiel’s vivid dislike of him and add two children into the mix and he's exhausted and barely knows which way is up. He feels like he's been thrown years into the future, since the Dean he's stumbled upon has a ready-made family complete with children and a perfect house on the beach, and it's like Sam just somehow missed it all. Like he wasn't paying enough attention. Which, well, is one of the things Dean had gruffly accused him of the previous day so perhaps he isn't so off-base with that thought.

Seeing Dean yesterday after so many months of mourning him had been… he can't find a word to describe it. He's probably still a little shocked. He had stayed in the spare bedroom overnight as per his brother’s insistence, even though the more pleasant out of the twins - the one who _hadn't_ knocked him on his ass out of left field - had offered him a ride back into town. He had seen the glare Cas had given Jimmy upon overhearing this suggestion, a glare which had doubled down when Dean had protested and asked that he stay the night.

“You don't mind, Cas, right?” Dean had turned big doe eyes on his boyfriend - _boyfriend,_ jeez, he and Dean have so much to catch up on - and Cas had just turned away with a frown and a shrug. He clearly minded a lot, but Sam wasn't in the mood to pander to his wishes, nor to walk away from his brother so soon after finding him again. Cas had gone to bed almost as soon as dinner was over, and Jimmy had made his excuses and left, leaving Sam and Dean alone in the kitchen once more. They had talked until midnight and beyond, and it doesn't feel like they've even scratched the surface of everything they need to discuss. Sam has a feeling that, as blindsiding and exhausting as yesterday had been, today is unlikely to be any easier. In the spare bedroom after they had all turned in for the night, he had quietly freaked out to Jess over Skype, who had talked him down with tearful smiles and demanded to know everything. They had talked for almost two hours as he filled her in, and she had been just as shocked and indignant as him, but seemed to understand it all better than he does. She had smiled through her tears and said she can’t wait to see him again, to wrap him in a hug and then kick his ass, and Sam had grinned and said he couldn’t wait to see it. She wants to Skype again this morning with both Sam and Dean, and he hopes his brother will agree to it. Jess adores Dean, always has, and to her credit she had admonished Sam for not spending more time back at home after the accident. It was only after his brother’s car crash and assumed death that he had been able to admit she was right.

He can hear the twins moving around in the kitchen, talking sporadically to each other in lowered tones, and his anxiety spikes. He doesn't really want to see either of them, and had hoped Dean would be awake too but he can't hear his brother’s voice in the conversation. Damn. That means he has to either go out and face the Novak twins alone or head back to his room and, well, hide out. And while the second option is definitely preferable it certainly isn't the most mature. So he grits his teeth and heads down the corridor, listening to Jimmy bark a laugh at something. He had woken to the sound of the other man’s car pulling up outside an hour ago, and had been unable to lie in bed any longer, especially since the smell of freshly made coffee has been wafting down the hall for a while now.

Jimmy he doesn't mind so much. He seems reasonable and seems more in control of himself than his twin. Cas? Cas he doesn't like much at all. The man isn't how he imagined him from his letter; he pictured a quiet, studious writer with a lilting voice and an ease about him. But the version of Cas he's experienced so far is nothing like that at all. He supposes he should value Cas’ fierce devotion to Dean, and that the extent to which Cas got so fired up with him should mean something. His brother deserves someone who loves him, someone who will be in his corner and fight for him. But… Cas? Really? Sam can still barely wrap his head around the idea of them being friends, much less lovers. Much less the damn happy practically married couple they appear to be. He huffs a little laugh at that idea: at least he doesn't have to worry about finding out that Dean has eloped with the guy. His brother has always been disinterested in marriage, so the likelihood of him putting a ring on Cas is a very slim one. He can just imagine Bobby’s face if they had to sit through _that_ ceremony, with Cas glaring at him throughout and Dean trying to explain to them how Cas is a great guy, really, they just have to get to know him.

He thinks back to his conversation with Dean the day before. It had been… well, what the hell _had_ it been? The first word to spring to mind is _unsatisfactory._ He had got the run-down of what Dean is doing here, who the Novak family is, and learned that Dean has a job down in the town and is pretty settled in his life here. In turn, he had told Dean what he's been doing since they parted; the cases he's worked on, how Jess is doing, and Dean has enthused about the baby. But that enthusiasm seemed a little tainted by hurt, by the fact that Sam hadn't told him they were starting a family. Looking back, he can see now how he was distancing himself from Dean and the drama he was going through, and it doesn't make him proud to admit it. He sighs; he may have more making up to do with his brother than he initially realised.

Dean has never been good with his words and he still isn't. But he had managed to tell his little brother how betrayed he had felt when not only did Sam refuse to help fight his corner in court but he was barely there at all.

“It was so rough, man.” Dean had murmured from behind the neck of his beer bottle. “I can't even begin to tell you. And I needed you, man. You weren't there. I get that you had a family and a job, but… if the roles were reversed there ain't nothing I wouldn't do for you. You just… left.”

“I didn't want to make it worse, Dean.” Sam had spoken more to his own hands than his brother. “I thought if I was there and we kept going over and over what happened then you'd never have a chance of getting over it. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Tough love, huh?” Dean pulls a wry, disbelieving smile. “If that's really what you thought then, well, sorry Sammy but that was a pretty big oversight of yours. I didn't need a clap on the shoulder and a ‘you'll be fine, just ride it out’. I needed more than that. I needed _you_ , and you just… weren't there.”

Sam hadn't been able to apologise last night. The words just refused to come. They stuck childishly in his throat for one reason: he’s hurting, too. He’s hurt that Dean could do this to him, to them all. To just up and vanish with no hints or breadcrumb trails, _nothing_ , knowing that they would all think him dead. They’d had a memorial service for him, for fuck’s sake. He had glossed over the details of how it had gone when Dean had laughed wryly and asked if they had played Led Zeppelin and had burgers for snacks. They had, but that wasn’t what Sam remembers when he thinks of the service. What he remembers is the other people who showed up, uninvited. The people who knew Anna and Lilith, and who objected to Dean being remembered as anything but a murderer. It had been… he doesn’t want to think about it. Nasty, it had been nasty, and they had all been shaken for a good few days afterwards. And that’s when it started to sink in, how much Dean had really struggled in his hometown when people were coming for him with pitchforks. A wave of guilt pulses through him and he pushes it back as hard as he can.

A sound from his right snaps him out of his trance and he realises he's been standing still and staring into space for a good minute or so. Down the corridor, there's the sound of bacon sizzling in a pan and cutlery clinking together and one twin asks the other if he wants two eggs or three. But that isn't what drew his attention. He steps closer to the door on his right and nudges it open just enough to peer through the gap, and the sight that greets him is something he never thought he would see in a million years.

Dean is lying on his side in bed, shirtless, clearly only just waking up, and in his arms is one of the twin boys Sam had met briefly the night before. He doesn't know for the life of him which one it is - nor can he remember their names - but he feels oddly choked up at the sight of his brother so at ease with someone else’s child. _His_ child, his subconscious jibes him, but something within him refuses to acknowledge that statement just yet. Dean is talking quietly to the boy, cradling him with one arm and ruffling his hair gently with his other hand. The boy is murmuring something back to him and whatever it is must be hilariously funny because Dean throws his head back and laughs, then crushes the kid to his chest in a hug. The boy scrambles up and pushes Dean to lie on his back so he can straddle his chest. Dean links his fingers with the kid’s and says something to him - the boy laughs and they chat quietly for a moment while Sam simply stands and stares. This isn't the Dean he knows. The old Dean was nothing like this. The old Dean loved beer and loud music and muscle cars, liked to drink in bars until they closed for the night and had a swagger to his step. His brother used to be full of jokes and grins and wry humour, but more often than not he was terse and tense with frown lines pulling down between his brows, particularly towards the end - circumstances obviously encouraged that. But this is a side of Dean he doesn't remember seeing ever… as he considers this a memory surfaces. He and Dean, children, arms wrapped around each other watching the neighbour’s 4th of July fireworks. Dean has been like this then: all soft smiles and constantly wanting to hug Sam and be near him, and he remembers feeling irritable with his brother then. Dean was in his teens, just, and Sam was starting to come into his own and he remembers shoving Dean’s arm off and rolling his eyes. Now, he remembers the flash of hurt in his brother’s eyes, hurt that was quickly opaqued by a witty barb that had Sam scowling and folding his arms in mutinous irritation. He remembers Dean as always being in control, always being the loudest one out of any group, the one to laugh the hardest and tell the stupidest stories. But seeing his brother so content in the presence of a five-year-old is something new, and it has him wondering if the Dean he knew for so long was just a cover-up for someone who wanted something he never knew he could have.

It doesn't bother Sam that Cas is a guy. It was a shock to learn that they're in a relationship, sure, but that has less to do with Cas being a dude than it does with Cas being, well, Cas. Spiky, irritable, admittedly quick-witted and savvy with his words, but Sam’s overriding impression of the guy is that he's a bit of a dick. And he doesn't see what Dean has evidently fallen so hard for. A shriek from the bed makes him snap back to his senses: Dean is sitting up now and tackling the kid, wrestling him until the boy is on his shoulders then he kneels up and reaches for his hands to hold him steady. He says something to the kid who laughs, then falls forward and turns at the last second to land on his back and the kid spills onto the bed above his head, howling with laughter.

“Again, daddy, again!”

 _Daddy_. A jarring confirmation that the man in front of him isn't the brother he remembers so well. This Dean is a partner and a father, and clearly in love with the family he's so settled with… and as much as it pains Sam to admit it, Cas, Jimmy and the children seem to adore Dean just as much. And something about that hurts. What he's feeling isn't jealousy, envy, or anything on that spectrum, but he can't put a finger on it. Dean even looks different. He's tanned, his hair lightened in the sun, and he doesn't look as… intense. His brother had a penchant for fast food and beer, much to Sam’s disgust, and he had always carried a little weight around his middle. But now he's leaner, covered in a layer of light muscle, the type that doesn't come from eating junk and lying on the sofa. His lifestyle must have changed drastically as well, along with everything else. The frown lines around his eyes and the downturn of his lips has softened, and watching him smile at the child climbing all over him is… a squirmy feeling of regret tightens in Sam’s stomach as he realises he doesn't know that smile. Not any more. He hasn't seen it in a long, long time.

The kid giggles and yells again as Dean sends him sprawling the bed once more, then his brother sighs and says, “Right, kiddo, let’s go wake Billie up. You guys have somewhere to be today.”

“No!” The kid grins as he says it, wriggling closer to Dean and settling against his chest. “Not today! I want to go to the beach!”

“The beach, really? It's pretty cold, Lex. The water won't be fun to swim in.”

“I wanna build a sand castle.”

“OK. How about this: you and Billie go have fun at kindergarten, then when you get back I'll take you to the beach while your dad makes dinner. Sound good?”

“Nope.” The boy laughs again, joyous and good-natured, and Sam can't help but smile. He doesn't know yet if he and Jess are having a boy or a girl, they elected not to find out, but he hopes his kid grows up to be half as adorable as this one. “ _Billie_ can go to kindergarten and _I_ can go to the beach.”

“Hmm.” Dean pretends to think about this as he sits up and shoves the sheets off them both; the boy crawls around behind him and wraps his arms around Dean’s neck; they still haven't noticed Sam is at the door. “I think they might notice if you're not there.”

“No! They won't! _Billie_ can pretend to be me!”

“Oh? And where shall I say Billie is, if he's busy being you?”

“Uhm…” The kid sticks a finger in his mouth and frowns. Then he grins mischievously. “At the beach!”

Dean laughs and stands up, hoisting the boy onto his back with one arm and holds him there in a piggyback as he awkwardly stumbles into a pair of PJ bottoms - and just as Sam realises he should probably step away and head to the kitchen, and pretend he wasn't watching them interact, Dean glances up and their eyes lock. He frowns for a second then schools his expression into something neutral and polite.

“Morning, Sam.”

“Um. Morning, Dean. Morning…” Shit. The other kid is Billie, what's this one called?

“Lexie.” Dean’s voice is cool with annoyance.

The child clings to his back like a koala and doesn't say anything; his blue eyes are large and piercing as he stares at Sam, and there's something discomfiting about it. He mutters an apology and backs away, steeling his nerves and turning to head down the hall to the kitchen where the Novak twins lie in wait.

*

“I don’t like him.” Castiel declares dramatically as he reaches for the espresso machine to turn it on. He barely understands how to work the damn thing, but Jimmy bought it for him so he uses it as often as he can. Or rather, as often as Jimmy is around to see him using it. It was expensive, he knows that much, and he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. And it _does_ make very good coffee. He hands a perspiring glass of juice to Jimmy who has taken a seat at the breakfast bar and is watching Cas bustle around the kitchen in his PJs. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“So nice to feel welcome in my own brother’s house,” Jimmy remarks, sipping his juice. “I wanted to make sure you all hadn’t murdered each other in the night.”

“You mean you wanted to check Sam was still alive,” Cas mutters darkly, fishing in a cupboard of cereal and grimacing as a box of Lucky Charms stares out at him cheerfully. _Dean!_ He shakes it and, finding it almost empty, rolls his eyes and stuffs it back in behind a box of granola in the hope it will never be found again. “So far, he is. I can’t make any promises, though.”

“Cas. Look. I know how you feel, I really do,” Jimmy folds his hands on the counter and tries to reason with his brother. “And I don’t like him either. But Dean loves him, he’s family. You have to try.”

“I am trying.” Cas plonks a steaming espresso in front of his brother. “Isn’t that much evident?”

“Quite frankly, no. I-“

Someone clears their throat behind him, and Jimmy turns slowly to see the object of their conversation standing staring at them, looking for all the world like he would rather be anywhere else at all. Given Cas’ icy and violent reception to him, Jimmy can’t really blame Sam.

“Uhm,” Sam loiters in the hallway, running a nervous hand through his hair and shifting from one foot to the other. “Morning. I heard voices.”

“Did you?” Cas doesn’t turn to look at him. “Well, cereal is in the cupboard, milk in the fridge, coffee machine is over there… do your thing.”

“Uh, OK.” Clearly nettled by Cas’ sharp tone, Sam approaches the kitchen and tried to head to the fridge. Cas cuts him off by reaching in front of him for a towel then turning his back. He does the same thing when Sam tries to work the espresso machine, almost pushing him aside so that he can open a drawer loudly and clatter about, bringing out a handful of cutlery needlessly - knives, forks and spoons are already set out on the table ready for when Dean and the boys wake up. When Cas deftly whips the box of juice right from under Sam’s reaching fingers, Jimmy has had enough. His twin is behaving like a cranky five-year-old and it’s getting old. Whether he likes it or not, Sam is a guest in his house and should be treated with a minimal amount of respect. He nudges Sam to take a seat on a stool and grabs everything he needs from the kitchen counters, trading glares with Cas when his brother works out what he’s doing, and scoots it across the counter top to Sam. He’s sent a grateful look for his efforts, and in the background Cas crosses his arms and leans against the counter, clearly powering up for an argument.

“Did you sleep OK?” Jimmy asks loudly, and Sam nods through a mouthful of cereal.

“Yes. Thank you. It was… very nice of you to let me stay, Castiel.” Sam turns to attempt a smile at his host, then seems to regret it very quickly. “I appreciate it.”

“Good.” Cas’ tone is low and caustic. “I’m glad to see you’re getting your rest. I wouldn’t want you to lose any sleep thinking about how you abandoned your brother and left him to deal with-“

“Thank you, Cas, we get it.” Jimmy’s voice increases in volume. “Why don’t you go wake the boys up?”

“No thanks, Dean can handle that.” Cas doesn’t move. His coffee is getting cold on the counter. “Don’t you have to go to work, Jimmy?”

“Yes, but I thought I’d go in an hour late and drop the twins at kindergarten on my way.” Jimmy’s response is smooth and practiced. He’s actually on a training day today that doesn’t start for another two hours, and he’s certain that leaving Sam alone with Cas is an exceptionally bad idea. He sends his brother a smug smile, one which wordlessly tells him that he’s onto him, that he knows Cas is just itching to get Sam in private and start laying into him again. And while Jimmy doesn’t like Sam either, can’t stand what he did to Dean, he knows that won’t be productive at all and will likely drive a wedge between Dean and Cas. And that’s the very last thing they need.

“Uncle Jimmy!” Billie appears from nowhere, half-dressed with toothpaste dribbled down his chin, and launches himself at his legs. “You don’t live here!”

“I almost do, kiddo. I should start paying your dad some rent!” He scoops the kid up onto his knee and kisses his neck, wiping his mouth with the nearest damp cloth. “What’s for breakfast?”

Billie grins, then says something that Jimmy knows will send Cas’ into fretful. “Lucky Charms!” A squawk from near the fridge confirms Cas’ reaction and Jimmy hides a grin in his nephew’s hair.

“I think we’re all out of those, kid. Granola and fruit, how about that?”

“OK!” Billie doesn’t look put out in the slightest, and settles comfortably in the chair next to Jimmy as Cas grumbles his way around the kitchen to make his child breakfast. “What’s your name?” Billie addresses Sam confidently, watching the newcomer watch him.

“Sam. Sam Winchester. Nice, um, to meet you.” Sam hesitates then holds out a hand - Cas snorts derisively - but then in a surprise to them all, Billie reaches across the table solemnly and takes it, shaking hands like a proper adult. Jimmy stares; where had he learned that?

A moment later, Dean joins them with Lexie on his shoulders and they’re both fully-dressed and smiling. As they pull chairs up around the table and tuck in to breakfast, the kids laughing and chattering, Jimmy can almost pretend that this is a normal family morning. Aside from Cas lurking in a corner sending them all death glares, that is, and aside from Lexie having sudden attacks of shyness and hiding his face in Dean’s arm. But the rest of it?The rest of it is the family Jimmy has always dreamed for his brother. Once they’ve cleared the next few hurdles, surely they will all be onto the home straight, and finally Cas can have his happy ending.


	26. Chapter 26

“I'm going for a run.” Cas declares not ten seconds after dropping his knife and fork on his plate with a clatter. He's barely spoken a single word during breakfast other than to bark at the twins when they got a little too raucous, complaining that they were giving him a headache. They had both stared at him with big, round eyes and Lexie's lower lip had quivered in confusion, prompting Cas to reach over and ruffle his hair and murmur an apology, telling his children he's still feeling under the weather. Dean had watched the exchange with some concern, wondering when he will get Cas alone to talk about what's on his mind. It seems to be more than a general dislike for Sam.“Jimmy, text me when you get the kids to school, OK? Just so I know they got there safely.”

“I will. Cas…” Jimmy trails off and stares at his twin’s retreating back as he disappears down the hall to change into his running gear, his shoulders tight and spine rigid, the picture of tension and stress. Jimmy sighs and stares at his plate, while Sam frowns and opens his mouth to say something. Before he can get a word out, Billie knocks Lexie’s orange juice over as he reaches for another piece of toast and they both look at the slowly spreading puddle and their eyes fill with tears.

“I'll get him.” Dean hops off his stool and follows Cas down the hall, not bothering to knock before entering their bedroom. He hears Jimmy sorting the twins out and Sam asking politely for a cloth so he can wipe up the mess. “Cas? Going running a little soon after eating aren't you?”

Cas is rummaging in one of the drawers and doesn't look up for a minute. When he does, he heaves a sigh and drops his hands to rest on the dresser, and his eyes look so sad and nervous that Dean hastens to his side and wraps an arm around his shoulder.

“What's the matter?”

"Nothing." Cas shrugs but doesn't pull away. "It's nothing."

"Don't do that, don't lie. Tell me what's bothering you, you've been off all morning."

"It's stupid," Cas does nudge Dean away this time, pulling out a pair of running shorts and a faded t-shirt. Dean recognises it as one of his. "And selfish. And nothing for you to worry about."

"But I am worrying, Cas." Dean reaches over and takes the clothing from his partner, tossing it on the bed and tugging Cas' hand until he turns to face him. "What's up? I know you don't like Sam, but this seems above and beyond."

"You're right, I don't like him." Cas' expression hardens and Dean thinks back to the night before. When he had come to bed, eventually, Cas had been lying awake waiting for him and they had talked until the early hours of the morning. He had regaled, in detail, his conversation with his brother, and Cas had seemed equally as unsatisfied as Dean had been. They had lain in the dark on their sides, facing each other, and whispered quietly almost until dawn, then when Cas had finally fallen asleep Dean had spent the remainder of the night thinking, going over and over the conversations in his mind and wondering what the next day will bring and working himself up into a state close to panic. Cas had woken with a start and instinctively known something was wrong, and had wrapped his arms around Dean and held him until their alarms went off, by which point the fear had receded and he was almost ready to face his brother again. Cas had got up to make breakfast, and had returned a moment later with a sleepy Lexie in his arms and had deposited him in bed with Dean, pulling the blankets up to cover them. He had leant down and kissed them both, telling Dean to lie in for a while longer while he sorted everything out. Grateful and full of love for Cas, he had pulled the child close to his chest and they had dozed for another hour while Cas busied himself in the kitchen.

"But I'll tolerate him, Dean, for you," Cas is saying, and the intensity in his voice snaps him back to the present. "But that isn't it. I guess..." He trails off and averts his eyes, looking anywhere but up at Dean.

"What, sweetheart? Tell me," Dean lifts Cas' hand and grazes his knuckles with a kiss. "Nothing is too stupid or selfish to share, I promise you."

“You won't be saying that in a minute,” Cas sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. “What happens when you and Sam patch everything up? What's going to happen then?”

“What do you mean?” Dean frowns, confusion flooding through him. What's going to happen with what? “Well, hopefully, we’ll be able to patch things up. I feel like we will, but it will take some time, and-”

“Dean. I mean, what's going to happen with _us._ ” Cas attempts to clarify but in Dean’s mind his point is still clear as mud. “Me, Lexie, Billie. Where is it going to leave us?”

“Cas, you're going to have to level with me here because I don't… Oh.” Suddenly, understanding dawns. “You think I'm going back with Sam. Back…” The word _home_ doesn't fit any more. _This_ is his home. “Back there. Cas,” He cups the other man’s jaw and forces their eyes to meet. “My home is here, with you and the boys. I'm never going back there, ever. I'm staying. You're stuck with me for good.” He cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “If you'll have me.”

“You know I will.” Cas kisses the tip of Dean’s thumb where it grazes his lower lip. “But your life is back there. Your brother, your friends, everything you ever loved…”

“But now, everything I love is right here.” Dean pulls Cas close with an arm around his waist. “And if things go to plan, we can both have an even bigger family. Sam and Jess can come visit, we can go see them… it would be amazing if it all works out.” He feels a throb of excitement at the idea. Family barbecues with the kids running about, Sam and Jess chatting animatedly to Jimmy, he and Cas kissing and watching everyone laugh…

Cas sighs, and that feeling melts away as he steps back, leaving Dean chilled without the heat of his body.

“I don't know if I can do it, Dean.” There's a note of resignation in his voice, one which sends a dart of fear up through Dean’s chest. “I… I _hate_ him. I really do. For what he's done… And I can't see that ever changing. Even if he apologises, even if he falls at your feet and pleads for your forgiveness it won't undo what happened in the past. What he drove you to do.” Cas’ eyes glitter suspiciously and he scrubs angrily at them, his voice low and intense and full of meaning. “What if you had been in that car, Dean? What then?”

“Cas don't, don't do these ‘what if’s. I wasn't in the car, I'm here, I'm fine, and…”

“I just don't think I can do it. Be the family you see us being. I'll try, Dean, of course I will. For you and the boys and Jimmy, I'll play happy families. But not yet, not for a while, and don't ask me to forgive and forget. It's too difficult.”

“Cas…”

“I'm going for a run.” Cas scoops up his clothes, his expression closed-off and cold, which irks Dean no end. He can't just drop that kind of bombshell then walk away. But he knows Cas and knows he needs his space, so he reluctantly allows him to walk past towards the door.

“Promise me you won't beat my brother up any more.” He says to the other man’s retreating back. “There's no need for it.”

“If I plan to do anything else stupid,” Cas gives him a tight, forced half-smile. “I'll let you know.” Then he's gone, walking down the corridor and leaving Dean to stare after him. The bathroom door slams, making him jump, and he sinks down on the bed, lost in thought.

*

Jimmy herds the twins out to the car and Cas vanishes without another word to anyone but his children. He's come out of the bathroom seemingly more upset than when he went in, and he pulls each twin close to him for a crushing hug and they both gaze up at him, bewildered, when he pulls away. Then he's gone, out of the living room doors and down onto the beach with no mind to the dark grey skies clouding over threateningly. He doesn't kiss Dean goodbye, nor does he say anything to his brother. He just goes.

Dean sighs, taking his seat again at the kitchen table and waves goodbye to Jimmy and the boys as the car pulls away, heading for the town. He and Sam sit in tense, awkward silence for a long minute until the trilling of Sam’s phone cuts in and they both let out breaths they didn't realise they were holding.

“Saved by the bell,” Sam tries to joke and Dean smiles weakly, Cas’ uncertain words and vehement declarations still ringing in his ears. “It's Jess, she wants to FaceTime. She's dying to talk to you. Is… shall we?” He sounds as shaky as Dean feels so he just nods, and schools his features into something resembling a smile.

“Sam?” It takes a moment for Jess’ face to appear on the screen and when it does Dean feels a rush of emotion and nostalgia at the sight of her. Her blonde curls are still the same, and she's just as pretty as he remembers. But now she's got a glow about her and her face has filled out. And as she positions the phone up against something so she doesn't have to hold it, Dean catches a glimpse of her baby bump and his breath hitches in his throat. “Dean? Dean, is that you? Oh, Dean!”

Instantly, she wells up, clasping a hand to her mouth. Sam balances the iPhone on the table against an empty glass and they both watch as Jess wipes her cheeks and smiles through her tears. Dean feels a pang of longing for her, wishing more than anything she could have come with Sam so that he could hug her and tell her he’s really OK. That the last few months have helped him rebuild his life and he’s ready to rebuild his family now, from the ground up.

“It’s really you. Of course when Sam told me it was you I believed him, but… oh, Dean, I’m so happy to see you.”

“You too, Jess.” He smiles warmly at her and gestures to her stomach. “You look fantastic.”

“I feel like a beached whale!” She laughs and Sam smiles fondly at her. “But my hair and skin look great and I’m growing a human, so I can’t really complain. I’m just so glad our baby is going to have his uncle,” She strokes her belly and looks down at her bump with a warm smile. “I bet you’ll be great with her.”

“You’re having a girl?” Dean gawks at Sam in awe. “I thought you hadn’t found out?”

“We haven’t. Jess is just convinced it’s going to be a girl.” Sam grins. “My money is on a boy.”

“Prepare to pay up, Sasquatch, I’m on Jess’ side. Or maybe it will be twins, one of each.”

He grins at the thought as Jess laughs and protests, picturing Lexie and Billie leaning over two identical babies with expressions of awe on their sweet faces. Behind them, there’s the sound of the front door opening and Dean turns to see Lexie running back into the house, tearful and red-faced, Jimmy walking behind him looking frustrated, a perplexed frown on his handsome face.

“We forgot our school bag,” He says to Dean just as Lexie reaches him and climbs up into his lap, sniffling. “Come on, Lex, we need to go. We’re going to be late.”

“I don’t want to go, daddy,” The boy snuffles into Dean’s shirt, throwing his arms around his neck and clinging tightly. From Sam’s iPhone he hears Jess’ sharp intake of breath at the boy’s words. “I want to stay at home with you.”

“Come on, kiddo. You love school, what’s the matter?” He tries to prise Lexie off him so he can look at his face but the boy shakes his head and burrows in tighter. “Lexie, talk to me. Sorry, Jess, I’ll just be a second.” He turns away and manages to dislodge the child until Lexie’s watery blue eyes meet his. “What’s wrong?”

“Just want to stay here,” He shrugs and plays with the hem of Dean’s shirt. “Don’t feel well.”

Dean presses the back of his hand to Lexie’s forehead and, sure enough, he does feel warm. And, come to think of it, the kid had been coughing this morning when they lazily woke up and snuggled in bed for a while. And again just before Jimmy set off to take them to school.

“You know, he might have caught whatever Cas had.” Jimmy appears at his side with Billie in tow and frowns down at the boy on Dean’s lap. “He was a bit off last night as well, now that I think about it. Maybe a duvet day wouldn’t be a bad idea, stop him getting worse.”

“You might be right.” He cradles Lexie against his chest, wincing as the kid coughs hard, and sighs up at Jimmy. “I’ve got him. You take Billie to school; Cas will be back soon anyway and I can send him to the store for some Tylenol. I think we’re all out.”

“I can go,” Sam pipes up hurriedly, and Dean and Jimmy both stare at him. Even Jess stares, through the iPhone screen. “You know. If you want. Save Cas having to go all the way there.” He blushes and drops his gaze and Dean can’t help but feel a swell of love for his brother.

“Yeah, OK Sam, that would be really helpful.” Jimmy nods efficiently and takes Billie’s hand again. “Right. Round two, let’s get Billie to school. See you all later.”

Dean turns back to the screen and Jess as the door closes, Lexie settled in his arms and snuggling close, and catches her staring at him with wide, teary eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. Just you and kids. Never thought I’d see it but… You’re a natural, Dean, you really are. He clearly adores you.” Her voice is warm and loving, and her smile genuine. He suddenly misses her terribly.

“I adore him too. And his brother.” He kisses Lexie’s head, watching the boy watch the iPhone screen, curled quietly in his arms. In the small corner image of the screen, above Jess’ smiling face, he can see himself with his arms wrapped protectively around Lexie, and he pulls him a little closer unconsciously, and realises he doesn't have any photos of him with the children yet. That's something he and Cas will have to remedy. “They’re my family, you know? My kids.”

“I know.” Her eyes sparkle as she looks at him. “I’d know without asking, Dean. I can tell just to look at you.”

*

They chat for a while longer, then Jess signs off in favour of a doctor’s appointment, leaving Sam and Dean alone to descend into yet another awkward silence, with Lexie acting as a buffer between them. Cas still hasn't returned, and Dean is pretty sure he's gone for one of his longer runs that will keep him out for over an hour. After their rushed conversation, he misses Cas terribly and is aching to be alone with him and talk everything out. But he's also full of nervous apprehension that Cas meant what he said and that he and Sam will never bond. Not that it would ever come between them, but it would make family gatherings difficult.

“Well. It was good to talk to her, I've missed her.” Dean strokes Lexie’s hair and rests his chin on the boy’s head. “And thanks for, you know, offering to go to the pharmacy for Lexie. I'm sure Cas will appreciate that as much as I do.”

“I'm not sure about that, but we’ll see. Dean… just so you know, I'm still pretty mad at you.” Sam is speaking to his hands, his cheeks flushed and Dean frowns, waiting. “But… yeah. I just… I'm sorry, I guess. For everything. I didn't realise just how hard it all was on you and maybe Jess and I should have been there more. I know it's too little too late, but… I do mean it. I hope we can work things out.”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles, and feels like a millstone has been lifted from around his neck. “I do too. Thanks, Sammy.”

*

Cas comes home sweaty and tired, but his face is clearer than it was when he went. He always finds solace in running, enjoying the sound of the waves and the feeling of sand beneath his bare feet. Dean can't understand it at all: running on sand makes it ten times more difficult, in his opinion, and while he's subscribed to the healthy, organic, sun-kissed life of Cas and the twins he's still of the firm opinion that going running is a step too far. He's signed up to the gym in town instead, and has managed to get a few workouts in there already, much to Cas’ satisfaction. He's leaner and fitter than he can ever remember being, even though he still sometimes craves a beer and burger night which Cas generously allows them to indulge in at least once a month. Cas always goes for a much longer run the next day, muttering something about being paranoid about the carcinogenic effects of processed meat while Dean just grins and waves him goodbye.

He eyes Dean and Sam warily when he comes in, a light sheen of sweat decorating his brow and his shirt sticking to him in various dark, damp places, and as soon as his eyes land on Lexie, dozing in Dean’s arms, his expression changes to one of concern.

“Dean, why isn't Lexie at school?” He moves as if to go to his child then seems to come to the conclusion that the boy is safe on Dean’s lap and heads for the sink instead to fill a glass with water.

“He's sick, Cas. Running a temp and coughing.” As if on cue, Lexie sniffles then breaks out into a coughing fit. Dean sits him up and pats him on the back until it passes; Cas watches with a worried frown, his eyes widening a little as Sam gets up and grabs some paper towels and hands them to Dean to wipe the kid’s nose with. “And we’re out of Tylenol.”

“Oh. Right. Well, let me get changed and I'll go get some.” Cas comes over and presses the back of his hand to his son’s forehead; Lexie gazes up at him with sad, doleful eyes and reaches for him. Dean relaxes his hold, feeling suddenly colder without the warmth of his boy on his lap.

“Sam can go. He offered, right Sammy?”

“No, thanks.” Before Sam can respond, Cas deftly scoops Lexie up onto his hip; the boy is sniffling now, eyes and nose streaming, and he cuddles close against his father with a low whine. “I'll go. He won't know where it is.”

“I can tell him. It's not a big town.”

“Well, he won't know what to get. He'll get the wrong thing.” Cas is clearly determined not to give in if the tension in his jaw is any giveaway, and Dean sighs, reaching for his hand.

“Cas. Sam knows what to get. And hey, it's good training for when his kid comes in the next few weeks, right? He wants to help.”

Cas looks over at Sam who is sitting tight-lipped, watching their exchange. As Cas meets his gaze, his face changes to an eager, helpful expression and Dean has to privately marvel at his brother’s speed of cover-up. He knows Sam and Cas dislike each other in equal amounts, but at least Sam makes an effort to hide it away. Cas makes no such attempts.

“Come on.” He wraps an arm around Cas’ waist, pulling him tight to his side. “If Sam goes to the store, I can look after you while you look after Lexie. I have to go back to work tomorrow, so I want to spend as much time with you as possible. You too, Sam,” he adds as an afterthought and he can see his brother straining to refrain from rolling his eyes. Cas considers this possibility and eventually sighs, long-suffering and defeated.

“Fine. All right. Thank you, Sam, I would be… very happy if you could go to the store for us. I'll write down what we need.”

They stare at each other with matching pinched, false smiles and Dean just shakes his head and plants a kiss on Cas’ temple, ruffling his hair.

“You're such a funny one, Cas. Right, Sammy, directions to the store. It's on Main Street, right by that cafe you stopped at yesterday…”


	27. Chapter 27

Lexie becomes really sick, really quickly. By the afternoon, he’s coughing so frequently and so hard that he can’t do much more than cry and doze fitfully in Cas or Dean’s arms. The Tylenol doesn’t help, nor do the two other medications Sam had picked up at the store. More than once he coughs so hard he’s sick while he flashes hot then cold then hot again, and by the time Jimmy returns to drop Billie off Cas is frantic with worry. It takes a strong cup of coffee and some firm words from his brother to stop him panicking, and all the while Dean rocks a fractious Lexie in his arms while Sam watches, concerned but unwilling to intrude too much. Billie is trying to climb onto Dean’s lap too, distressed by how sick his brother is, and settles for snuggling up against his side, Dean’s arm around his shoulders, and the twins watch each other with matching sets of sad blue eyes. 

“He’s going to be fine, Cas, he’s obviously just been hit with this harder than you were,’ Jimmy’s voice is cool and reassuring, soothing to raw nerves. “Remember when we were his age? You caught the measles and our parents were worried sick about you.”

Cas does remember. He remembers going to the doctors and then to the hospital, being separated from Jimmy and crying for hours, partly because of how ill he felt but mainly due to being apart from his twin for one of the first times in his short life. It isn't one of his fondest memories and he isn't sure quite what point Jimmy is trying to make. 

“I mean that it was scary at the time but you were fine.” His brother huffs, as though reading his mind. “It's probably just the flu, stop worrying so much.”

Later, Sam bids Castiel a goodbye, thanking him for his hospitality, and Cas’ reply is short and snappy and he turns his back almost instantly, the muscles in his shoulders and spine rigid. Sam rolls his eyes at him then turns to his brother and they embrace, somewhat awkwardly. Sam has to go back to Jess, back to work, and Dean is swimming in loss. He doesn't want Sam to leave, he isn't ready yet. They haven't patched everything up, they know they haven't. That's why he has tears in his eyes when Jimmy’s car pulls away from the house in a flurry of gravel, Sam raising his hand in a wave from the passenger seat. He stands on the porch, surreptitiously wiping his eyes, and flinches in surprise when Cas’ arms come around him. 

“It's OK, Dean. You’ll talk. He’ll visit. You guys will be OK eventually.”

“Yeah?” Dean wraps an arm around his lover’s shoulders and they both stare after the retreating car. “But what about you? You said you can never forgive him.”

“I can't.” Cas sets his jaw more firmly. “But I can maybe learn to be around him. For you. For the boys.”

Relief floods through Dean at that. It isn't what he hoped for (in his mind he's now doing what Cas once did: picturing the perfect family reunion) but he’ll take what he can get. Baby steps. From inside, Lexie coughs and whines for his parents and Dean squeezes Cas tight before releasing him. “Thanks, baby. I love you.”

“You too.” 

Lexie sleeps in their bed that night, and it pains Dean to leave him the next morning to go back to work. Their kid is sick, running a fever and complaining of a headache and leaving him feels unnatural. Especially when Dean leans down to kiss him and Lexie pulls away, cuddling closer to Cas, mad at him for leaving. He sighs and pats the kid on the head instead and Cas gives him an apologetic look. 

“Love you guys. Be good. Come on, Billie, I'll drop you off on my way.”

“I'll call you later,” Cas kisses Lexie’s sweat-damp hair. “Love you.”

It's good to be back at work. Satisfying, fulfilling. Meg and Gabriel hear all about his brother’s visit (well, the rendition they get is highly edited but they believe every word) and both pass on their best wishes to Lexie, hoping he gets better too. Meg eyes him, looking him up and down before flicking him with a tea towel. 

“You're on to a good thing there, Deano. Don't let it slip through your fingers.” Then she's gone, wandering off into the kitchen in the wake of her cryptic comment, and Dean can only assume she knows more about the last week than she's letting on. 

The customers have missed him and, in a weird way, he's missed them too. He ties his apron around his waist with relish, and today he's allowed to help Gabriel bake, which is a highlight he can't wait to tell Cas about. The day passes in a pleasant blur of coffee and chatter, and when he gets home he finds Cas passed out asleep with his kids snuggled up to him on the couch. He smiles as he moves quietly around the kitchen, whipping them up something quick and easy for dinner, and when he wakes them all up he's pleased to find Lexie a little better and smiling again. He's off school for almost a week, but eventually he gets better and is his normal cheerful self once again. 

The weeks pass. Halloween comes and goes, and the boys look adorable dressed as Jack Skellington and Sally, their little faces painted in detail. They've never seen the movie but they love their costumes and Dean watches them light up as they go trick or treating. Lexie gets a cold over Thanksgiving, so they spend it quietly at home. Cas cooks, Dean washes up, and they're all asleep in front of the fire before nine PM. Over time, FaceTime conversations with Sam and Jess become regular, if a little stilted to begin with. Cas never joins in, preferring to wave coolly from a distance or say a quick hello as he walks past. Dean doesn't mind; baby steps. Then, five weeks after Sam’s departure, he gets a text message at two in the morning and his excited whoop wakes Cas who sits up with a start. 

“What? What's wrong?”

“Look!” Dean shoves his phone at Cas, who blinks and rubs his eyes against the brightness of the screen. “We’re uncles!”

Jess and Sam have a daughter, a beautiful scrunched up pink bundle of joy, and Dean has a tear in his eye when he reads the entire message and learns they've named her Mary, after the Winchesters’ mother. Even Cas can't stop a joyous grin from spreading across his face, and he takes the phone from him and stares at the picture in awe. 

“She's beautiful, Dean. I love her already.” 

They sit up against the headboard and talk for the rest of the night, and around five AMCas kisses Dean, and they make love for the first time in weeks. They haven't had time for each other, not with the kids being at school, Dean working and Cas finding the time to return to his writing again. And things haven't been… quite right between them since Sam left. They haven't argued or had cross words, but there's been a barrier between them, invisible and ignored. But as Cas pushes the head of his cock into Dean and grips his hips, gasping words of love against the back of his neck, that barrier dissolves and it's them again. Just them, just the way they were. They fuck gently, lying on their sides with Cas holding Dean’s leg up and thrusting his hips in a slow, torturous rhythm that takes Dean to the edge over and over again but can't quite push him over. Cas mouths at Dean’s shoulder, Dean reaches back to wrap his fingers in Cas’ hair, and their hands remain linked on Dean’s belly as they rock together. He can feel Cas moving inside him, beneath his fingers, and they both groan at the sensation. After almost thirty minutes of this slow, intense grinding Dean comes with a shocked cry, his orgasm rushing up and overwhelming him before he has time to prepare himself. The clenching of his body around Cas’ thick cock drags the other man over the edge too, and he's filled with pulse after pulse of hot semen. 

They lie together in the afterglow, Dean on his back and Cas snuggled up to his side, and just kiss for almost an hour before deciding a shower would be a good idea before the twins wake up. A shower together, of course, and they spend the time exploring each other's bodies with gentle, soap-slick hands and trading hot, sweet kisses into open mouths. Dean licks into Cas’ mouth and holds him close, arms around his waist, and Cas sighs against him. 

“Missed you. So much.” 

“Me too, baby,” Dean runs his hand through Cas’ wet hair. “Me too.” 

Before they know it, Christmas is almost upon them and the twins are dragging them by their hands around every store they can find to look at the lights. Lexie is mesmerised by everything and just stares, one finger in his mouth while he presses close to Dean and holds his hand tightly. Billie, on the other hand, rushes about and grabs everything he can get his hands on and giggles with raucous laughter. The problems between the twins seem to have dissipated and they're both doing excellently at school, much to Cas’ relief, and as a reward they've decided to take them shopping for a Christmas tree. The boys are bundled up in coats, hats and mittens, and Cas is in a long trench coat and scarf (one that Dean knows he knitted himself), his cheeks flushed and his hair messed up with the wind. They've already been to Dean's work for hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, Meg and Gabriel fussing over the boys and giving them a box of snacks to take away for later, and Dean has spotted a few gifts in the shops they've passed that he plans to go back and purchase later. 

“I don't decorate much,” Cas warns Dean as Billie tugs at his arm, pointing towards a life-sized stuffed reindeer at the back of the top floor of the department store they're currently wandering in. “So don't go expecting Santa’s grotto. But I try to make the place look nice.”

They eventually choose a six-foot tall spruce and Dean grumbles good-naturedly as he drags it into the house while Cas and the twins watch and make unhelpful suggestions, smiling behind their hands the entire time. They spend a wonderful afternoon draping the tree in lights, and the twins unpack the small amount of decorations and hang them haphazardly from the branches. When they all collapse onto the sofa an hour later, Dean can't ever remember feeling so excited about Christmas. The little wood-burning stove is crackling merrily a few feet away and the twins curl up together on the sofa looking through a picture book of the Polar Express. The house is cosy and homely and smells deliciously of cinnamon and the hot mulled wine Cas has brewing on the stove; Dean thinks it's exactly what heaven must look like.

"Daddy, we didn't do the angel." Lexie twists his head to look up at Dean. "We didn't do it."

"Ah, did we forget the little treetopper?" Dean glances up at the naked top of the tree. It does look a little sad, with so few decorations and no tinsel - it's tacky as hell, but Dean does love tinsel. "We'll do it later. Read your book, we're tired now. We're old men, Lexie, we need our rest."

"I keep meaning to buy more decorations, you know?" Cas muses, running a hand through Billie's hair. His son wriggles, nudging him away, engrossed in his book. "Cole never liked much fuss at Christmas, then when it was just me and the boys I never saw much point. They were too young to appreciate it much and I didn't exactly have lots of spare time. And now, every Christmas, I regret not making the time to go shopping for decorations, but..." He shrugs, trying to pass it off but Dean can sense sadness in the gesture. "Never mind. It's not about the decorations, it's about family. Right?"

"Right." Dean puts his feet up on the coffee table and wraps an arm around Cas, and they both stare at the lit up Christmas tree in silence. And Dean thinks of Sam, of Jess, and of Mary, and wonders what they have planned for Christmas.

*

"Daddy?" Lexie rubs his eyes, sleepy and confused. "It's morning?"

"No, kiddo, it isn't. But I have something I need your help with. Can you do something for me?" Dean is kneeling by Lexie's bed side, stroking the kid's face and barely suppressing a grin. It's Saturday morning, two AM, Cas is fast asleep, and he has something planned, something he's been planning for days now and has finally got around to doing. He wasn't going to involve the kids but then thought, what the hell? They will love it and, in turn, Cas will love it even more. "Can you be super duper quiet, wake Billie up and come through to the living room? But you gotta be quiet, OK? Quiet like mice."

Lexie nods, his blue eyes slowly clearing of sleep and he looks over at his brother. "Alright. We can be quiet."

"Good. Put your socks on and your robes, it's chilly and I don't want you catching a cold."

Out in the living room, Dean arranges the boxes in the places he wants them. One near the Christmas tree, one in the kitchen, one near the glass doors that lead outside (which he plans to tackle himself, he doesn't want the children outside in the cold in the middle of the night), and one in the middle of the room because it contains random, miscellaneous items that can go anywhere, really. He's going to let the boys decide.

"What are we doing?" Billie asks, too loudly, and Dean shushes him.

"This is a surprise for your dad, OK? So we all have to be super quiet so we don't wake him up, got it?" The boys nod, entranced and excited. Dean has turned on the Christmas lights so that the whole room is bathed in twinkling white and gold. It's a clear night and outside the sky is full of stars. "Go look in the boxes. Take out what you like and help me decorate the room - think Santa's grotto. Think Polar Express. Think..."

"Christmas!" They yell in unison then giggle, clapping hands over each other's mouths and gripping on tightly to each other, both almost vibrating with excitement. 

“Exactly! Now, get to it, kids. And remember: be quiet!”

It's such fun, decorating the house. Dean seems to spend most of his time handing stuff to the boys, lifting one up then the other to hang ornaments or drape tinsel around various items of furniture. He sprinkles glitter on the coffee table, sprays the base of the windows white, hangs mistletoe from every door frame. He watches the kids through the window as he shivers, wrapping fairy lights around the chairs out on the decking. The kids are mesmerised by the snow globes. Lexie coughs a little, but Dean just puts it down to the dust and the glitter. It takes over an hour, and when he turns to look at the mess they've made he can't help but smile. Cas will  _love_ this. He's certain. 

Then…

“Dean?” 

Cas’ voice, rough with sleep comes from the hallway and the three of them freeze in place, all looking up with guilty expressions. Cas is in plaid PJ pants and a Henley, and is rubbing his eyes in confusion, frowning at Dean and the kids amid the mess of boxes, tinsel and Christmas decorations. Lexie has a can of fake snow in his hands and Billie is holding the end of a long garland intended for one of the windowsills. Damn. Cas wasn't meant to see this until the morning, but Dean can already feel a smile spreading over his face as he watches his partner’s eyes widen in shock. 

“Dean, what's going on? What are you guys…” Cas takes in the tree branches laden with ornaments, the tinsel wrapped around table legs, the little miniature Santa with his reindeer on the kitchen counter, the wooden letters spelling out ‘Castiel’ that glitter with snowy sparkles, the reindeer antlers on Lexie’s head and the smear of glitter down Billie’s nose. Then his gaze comes to rest on Dean, dressed in his PJ pants and a sweater with a giant Rudolph on it complete with light-up nose, and his mouth drops open. “What have you  _done?_ Dean, I…” Cas bursts out laughing joyfully, and his kids run at him, pouncing and sending him sprawling back across the sofa. “When did you plan all this?”

“Couple days back.” Dean flops down next to him and shoves a pair of antlers onto Cas’ head. “We wanted to surprise you.”

“We did, daddy! We surprised you!” Billie climbs onto Cas’ lap, straddling him, grinning hugely. “Didn't we?”

“You sure did,” Cas pulls them all to him, relaxed and overwhelmed with happiness, taking in the lights. They reflect in his blue eyes, making them twinkle. Then he pushes up off the sofa and goes over to examine the tree, touching one ornament after the other and marvelling at the detail. "I love it. I love everything. Thank you, Dean, so much. Where did you get all this?”

Dean wraps his arms around Cas from behind and kisses his neck. “Thrift stores. Mainly. I knew you wouldn't want me to spend much. I wanted to surprise you, do you like it?”

“I love it.” Cas twists in the embrace to kiss Dean, then studied his face for a moment. “Can I ask you something?” At Dean’s nod he continues: “I just wondered…” Cas trails off and clears his throat. “What, um, Jess and Mary have planned for Christmas.” He's very careful not to say Sam’s name, but Dean’s heart jumps in his chest. 

“I don't know,” he replies, equally carefully. “I could ask them.”

“Sure. I'm sure they have plans, but if not…” Cas shrugs. “We might have room for them. If they wanted to come. And I guess… Sam, too. It wouldn't be… awful.”

Dean grips Cas around the waist and lifts him off his feet, swinging him around and making him yelp with laughter. The twins both glance up simultaneously and run over to them, wanting to join in the game, and they all wind up in a pile on the floor with smiling faces, panting and exhausted. Dean kisses Billie on the forehead and strokes his hair. 

“Guess what?”

“What, Dee?” Billie twists his head like an owl, turning to look up at him. 

“We might have a few more people here for Christmas. Including your brand new baby cousin. How would you feel about that?”

The shrieks from the twins make Cas shove his hands over his ears, but he can't hide his delighted smile. 

*

When Dean asks Sam to come for Christmas, he doesn't get a response right away. In hindsight, asking him via text wasn't probably the best idea but in his excitement he hadn't really thought it through. He waits, eyeing his phone anxiously for almost ten minutes before giving up and abandoning it - only to rush back almost immediately when it pings with a reply. 

**DUDE! We would love to spend Christmas with you. I can't wait for you to meet Mary, Dean, she's the picture of mom. I'll look into flights. PS. Tell Cas I say hi.**

Cas smiles as Dean reads him the text and says he will make up the spare room tonight, just in case they turn up in the next few days. Dean watches him walk away, humming Christmas carols to himself. Baby steps. 

Sam take a screenshot of one of their FaceTime sessions and rashly uploads it to Facebook, captioning it with ‘Can't wait to get the whole family together’, and tags Dean and Jess in it. Cas flatly refuses to add Sam as a friend on Facebook, but does ask Dean to send him the picture; Dean grins as he does so. Baby steps. And it's a great picture, the pair of them side-by-side with the twins on their laps who are goggling at the screen, at their new baby cousin in the small image in the top corner. Only an hour after posting it online Sam has to take it down amid a flurry of shocked comments about Dean being alive and well, and Dean privately feels a sense of satisfaction at all the explaining his brother will have to do. That feeling is short-lived when messages start to trickle into his own inbox and he closes the laptop down, overwhelmed. 

He's heard from Benny, who was just as shocked as he imagined he would be, and behave exchanged a few text messages and even two phone calls. But their relationship is fractured beyond repair, and he knows they will eventually drift apart. He's all right with it, somehow. He put Benny through hell by disappearing and he doesn't expect the other man to welcome him back with open arms any more than he's able to do the same to Benny. His friend tried, at the time. It just wasn't enough. 

Bobby isn't speaking to him, Sam has confirmed that fact. It will take a while, he's sure, for them to forge any kind of shaky relationship but he's willing to put in the time. He's sent Sam a handful of letters to give to the older man which have, apparently, been taken with a noncommittal grunt but Sam has caught him reading them with misty eyes. Baby steps. 

They're coming back together, his family. Slowly but surely, he's rebuilding things and he has Cas by his side. All things considered, this is going to be the best Christmas he's ever had. Especially since less than a year ago he didn't think he would ever see another. 

*

It's four days before Christmas and Sam, Jess and Mary’s flight is due to land in a couple of hours. Dean is Christmas shopping in town while Cas and the boys wrap presents at home. It's cold, the wind biting at Dean’s face and hands, but the Christmas lights are keeping his spirits buoyed. He's beyond nervous about seeing Sam again, and about Cas and Sam meeting each other once more. He wanders past a few gift shops unseeingly, the weight of carrier bags numbing his fingers slowly, until he reaches a small shop with fairy lights in the window, and he pauses, looking inside. A thought which has been slowly swirling in the back of his mind for a while now starts to take root as he gazes through the store window at the items for sale. 

Checking his watch and realising he's close to running out of time on his parking meter, he whips out his phone and takes a photograph of the one thing he particularly likes in the window, then turns away, mind racing with nervous excitement. As he walks back to the car he can't help but smile as a plan slowly starts to form in his mind. But there's someone else he needs to be on board with it. He takes out his phone again but then puts it back in his pocket, thinking hard. He has to do this right. And that means not rushing to plan things before he's ready. This is one thing he doesn't want to screw up. 

He drives to the airport with a secret smile at his lips, one that grows into a grin the more his plan starts to come together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just broke 100k words for the first time ever! Woohoo!
> 
> Also PS. Thank you to those who have been in touch on Tumblr, I'm having a really bad time with my anxiety at the moment as some of you may know, and writing is my therapy. ♥


	28. Chapter 28

“Jess, it's wonderful to meet you. How was your flight?” Castiel takes the bags from Jess’ hands immediately, kissing her on the cheek and stepping back to welcome her into their home. Sam and Dean follow behind, Mary cradled against Sam’s chest, and neither of them miss the tension in Cas’ shoulders. It takes him a moment to turn towards Sam, but when he does his eyes light up at the carefully-wrapped bundle in his arms.

“Sam… it's good to have you back.” His voice is even but holds a slight tremor - excitement and nerves - that only Dean notices. “And… this must be Mary.”

“Yes.” Sam pauses, then says gruffly, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Me?” It comes out as a squeak and Cas blushes, then tries again. “I… I would love to. But let's get you all inside first, it's freezing out here. Do you want me to carry anything? Hi, Dean.” It's said as an aside as Dean presses a kiss to his cheek; Cas is distracted by his guests and his anxieties and Dean does his best to calm him down by wrapping an arm around his waist and whispering words of comfort into his hair as they all walk inside.

It takes a while for them all to get settled, Sam and Jess in the spare room while Dean cradles his niece and makes faces at her, and Cas just watches from a distance, unnerved by having guests in his house and by the fact that one of those guests is someone he dislikes. Or rather, _disliked._ Dean is sure Cas is slowly coming around to his brother, and that suspicion is confirmed when Sam pulls Cas aside an hour later to talk to him - just within earshot of Jess and Dean.

“Cas, I… want you to know how grateful we are for your hospitality.” His voice is strained, nervous. “And… I want to apologise. To you. Because I know you hate me and I understand why. But please, just know that I won't hurt Dean again. I want to be here for him, for you, for the boys. I want us to be a family. I hope…” Sam runs a hand through his hair. “I hope we can be friends.”

“I’d like that, Sam.” Cas says, a little stiffly, but his words are genuine. He would like that, for the benefit of his family. They trade tense, slightly wary smiles and wander back to the living area where Dean and Jess pretend (terribly) that they weren't listening in at all. Cas plops down on the sofa in between his children, wraps them both in hugs, and is soon deep in conversation with Jess about the plans for Christmas dinner and about how she's getting on with Mary, offering parenting advice and tips while Jess listens, avidly.

In bed later, Dean moves to lie on top of Cas and kisses him hotly, grinding their hips together until they both come, and Cas gasps out a desperate little laugh, running his hands through his hair and smiling up at Dean in surprise.

“That was… awesome, naturally. But… the occasion?”

“I need an occasion to make love to my boyfriend?” Dean explores Cas’ throat with his lips, already considering round two since they've sweaty and sticky already.

“‘Make love’? You're such a sap,” Cas swats him, laughing.

“You love me, though.” A wave of nerves nudges at him but he pushes it away firmly. “Right?”

“Always.” Cas kisses him and then they're moving together again, slowly, erotically, and it feels so damn good. “For always.”

*

Dean clears his throat once, twice, then a third time, just to kill a few seconds. He's pretty sure what he's doing now would be classed as loitering, but it still doesn't encourage him to raise his hand and knock. The wind bites at his nose and cheeks, and he rubs his palms together to try and generate some warmth. It's Christmas Eve and all around him people are singing carols and lights are twinkling. The neighbourhood is warm and homely, family-friendly, and he can see why Jimmy enjoys living here. It's definitely a far cry from Castiel’s isolated home, but it's pleasant in its difference.

OK. He can do this. He can't stand here all day, eventually Cas will start to worry where he is, and he doesn't know how long the conversation with Jimmy will take. He steels his nerves and knocks on the door.

A moment later the handle turns and Jimmy stands there, eyebrows raised and looking ruffled, like Dean’s interrupted something he was doing, and he immediately feels guilty.

“Dean? Um, hello. I wasn't expecting you?”

“I, uh, hi. Hi, Jimmy.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, flushing. He doesn't know how to continue, and really doesn't want to have this conversation on Jimmy’s doorstep. Nearby, some children start singing a rendition of _Silent_ _Night_ , and Dean turns to look at them.

“Dean.” Strong hands grip his biceps, drawing his attention back, as he glances down at them and is a little surprised by how familiar they seem. He's struck with the sudden comprehension of how similar the twins are physically. The same hands, the same build, the same sardonic eyebrow raises and quizzical head tilts. He's jolted from those thoughts when Jimmy shakes him lightly. “What's wrong? Is Cas all right? The boys? Lexie? He’s not sick again is he?”

“Yes,” Dean has to lick his lips and swallow a couple of times; his mouth is suddenly drier than the Sahara. “I mean, no, no Lexie’s fine. Everyone’s fine. I just wanted to, uh…” Come on, Dean. You got this. “Hang out?” Oh. You don't got this.

“Um…”

Perplexed, Jimmy releases him and takes a step back, his blue eyes wary and confused by the suggestion. Dean gets it. Their relationship has come on leaps and bounds since their first fiery meeting, but they aren't what he would call buddies. They don't call or text each other beyond polite discussions of the family, and they definitely don't hang out just the pair of them. Jimmy has done him a favour or two in the past and they are able to sit and have a drink together for a while, but heading over to Jimmy’s just so they can hang out is new, uncharted territory. Plus, it's Christmas Eve and Jimmy is coming over later for dinner. Dean’s visit makes, logically, no sense whatsoever. He wouldn't blame Jimmy if he said no and closed the door; however he fervently hopes that he doesn't do that. It may take him a while, but he's determined to do what he came here to do.

“Sure?” It's a question, not a confirmation, and Dean forces himself to smile at Jimmy brightly and take a step forward, effectively forcing the other man to move back and let him in. “Shall I take your coat?”

Now inside, nerves descend onto Dean and wrap around his chest, constructing, and drawing breath is a little more difficult. He smiles stiltedly and shrugs off his coat and scarf, hanging them on a hook and following Jimmy through his beautifully decorated house to the living room with interest. As similar as the twins are, their differences in taste and interests vary wildly. Where Cas’ house is light and airy, cosy with hand-me-down blankets and furniture from markets and thrift stores, Jimmy’s home is meticulously decorated and everything seems to have a place and a purpose. The ceilings are high and the walls a soft grey; orange and lime accents are strategically placed throughout, in the form of lampshades, cushions and ornaments that serve no purpose - in Dean’s opinion - beyond gathering dust. A small Christmas tree stands in the window, lovingly decorated by the two generations of Novak twins a few days previously - Dean had stood back and taken photos of them as they laughed and smiled and hung decorations, and the place feels warm and festive. Jimmy is effortlessly stylish in a way that Cas isn't, but somehow it just makes Dean love his man a little bit more. The twins clearly share the same love of books - a huge bookcase covers one wall, and Dean takes in familiar titles. Bukowski, Palahnuik, and Orwell battle for space with Wilde, Huxley and Nabokov. Translated copies of Battle Royale and Anna Karenina sit on top of recipe books and historical biographies. Dean didn't think many people were better read than Cas, but Jimmy certainly takes the title from him. He spies a pile of paperwork and binders chock-full of handwritten notes. Jimmy’s job is hectic and chaotic but he enjoys it, loves teaching new things to young minds, and he clearly doesn't believe in the concept of not taking his work home with him.

“Would you like a drink?” Jimmy has the same habit of twisting his hands together as Cas, displaying his nervousness. Dean nods, and Jimmy vanishes into the kitchen only to reappear with two perspiring bottles of IPA. Dean takes one and perches on the edge of the nearest sofa.

“So…” Jimmy runs a hand through his hair. “As nice as it is to see you, Dean, why do I get the feeling that this isn't a social visit?” Since I'm supposed to be seeing you in…” He checks his watch. “Four hours?”

Because we never hang out? Is the knee-jerk response on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he bites it back. The last time he and Jimmy spent time alone together was when Lexie was in the hospital, and it had been a rough night. They're friends now, but still not close. He has to be nice. He desperately needs Jimmy on his side.

“Yeah, you caught me. I have an ulterior motive.” He sips his beer thoughtfully, trying to remember how he planned to proceed. “I guess I wanted some advice.”

“Oh?” Jimmy arches an eyebrow. “Am I to assume you can't ask Cas for this advice, since it's my doorstep you've turned up on?”

“It's, well, it's about Cas.” Dean toys with his bottle. Outside the grey skies are darkening as the evening draws in. “About our future, specifically.”

“Oh.” Jimmy shifts, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, Dean, I really think you and Cas should discuss this between yourselves. I know I might look a lot like him but I'm a poor substitute, and if you're having concerns…”

“No! God no, no concerns at all. You know how much I love him and those kids, come on. Give me some credit, please.” The I think I've earned it goes without saying. Jimmy relaxes, but only minutely. He still looks like a skittish wild animal. “Of course I’ll talk to Cas, but you know him better than anyone. Better than he knows himself, and I want to make sure I'm not rushing anything. I don't want to scare him, or make him feel pushed into something he isn't ready for.”

“Such as?” Jimmy squints. “Dean, if this is about your sex life then really, I'd rather not-”

“No!” Dean exhales in irritation, unsure if he's more aggravated with Jimmy or himself. He had hoped this would be a smooth conversation, but clearly God has other plans and is looking for entertainment. He can just picture the bastard sitting up there on a cloud with a bucket of popcorn and his favourite black comedy: The Life of Dean Winchester. “Nothing like that. It's kind of… about Cole.”

Jimmy, understandably, looks more puzzled by the second. “Cole? But you said this was about your future? Cole is Cas’ past.”

I know that, dumbass. “I know that, Jimmy. Thanks. But what I want for our future is probably going to be dictated by what happened with Cas and Cole. And I want to tread lightly and avoid any pitfalls. You get me?”

“I think I'm starting to.”

Dean checks his watch, a nervous habit. He can't relax, not knowing what he's about to ask Jimmy and, really, with no clue what the response will be. Half an hour away, Cas will be chopping chicken and vegetables for dinner while the kids play under the Christmas tree, probably singing to some old 50s music - his boyfriend has got to start utilising Dean’s music collection - and is completely oblivious to where Dean is. He will be playing gracious host to Sam and Jess, fawning over Mary and making sure all their needs are met. He thinks Dean is back in town finishing his last-minute shopping and picking up some things for dinner tomorrow. He almost feels a twinge of guilt at the deception.

Almost.

“What was Cole like?”

Jimmy sighs, and leans back on the sofa, downing a deep swallow from his bottle. His expression is slightly pained, like he's considering how to approach his answer. “Cole was… very different to you, Dean. He and Cas had a different relationship.”

“How so?”

“He was very… serious. Very reserved. He loved Cas a lot but sometimes I felt like they didn't have enough fun together. Everything was very meticulously planned out; they lived their lives to this fast, rigorous schedule, and it wasn't always good for Cas.”

“Really?” Dean probably looks as taken-aback as he feels. “I can't imagine Cas sticking to a rigid schedule.”

Jimmy snorts. “No, you wouldn't have recognised him back then. He changed when he met Cole. Not in a bad way, and I don't want this to sound like I didn't like the guy because I did. But there were times when I felt like I’d lost my little brother.”

“Only twelve minutes between you.”

“Oh, god, not you as well.” Jimmy laughs good-naturedly. “Younger is younger, no matter how many minutes. Anyway, they had a good relationship. They were happy. They had a beautiful wedding, a couple of years of marriage together, then the twins came along.”

“And the rest is history.”

“I suppose so. Another?” Jimmy gets up and waggles his empty bottle at Dean. Apparently talking about his brother’s deceased husband has driven him to drink pretty quickly - Dean’s beer is still half-full.

While Jimmy rustles about in the kitchen, Dean sends Cas a text. It's a quick Won't be too long, miss you but the response he gets is immediate and sends a warm smile across his lips. Hope not. Miss you too much already.

“And there's one way in which your relationship differs to theirs.” Jimmy is back, pointing a bottle at Dean again. This time, it's a full one.

“Huh?”

“Cole never looked like that when he was texting Cas.”

“How did you know…?” Dean flushes and pockets his phone, but the smile at his lips is still there. He misses Cas too, and Jimmy is correct: he's a poor substitute.

“Please. If it isn't him you're texting then I'll throw your cheating ass off a cliff. But I'm willing to bet my life’s savings that it is; I've seen the way you look at him.”

In the past, Dean would have laughed and made some crack joke to deflect. He was never comfortable with feelings and emotions - they dented his masculinity. But the person he is today has no issue with wearing his heart on his sleeve. And today, nothing seems particularly amusing what with the question in the back of his mind. “I love him, man. Can't help it. He's perfect.”

Another snort, this time an affectionate one. “Nobody's perfect, Dean. But Cas is as close as you're going to get.”

“He is to me.” It's raw and probably too honest, and Dean kind of regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips as Jimmy’s eyes widen a touch. But hell, he needs the guy to know just how serious he is about Cas. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with him, Jimmy. Him and the children. And, I guess, you by extension." He colours as he says that and Jimmy averts his eyes in embarrassment but Dean's meaning is clear. He wants the whole Novak package.

"Get to the point, Dean." Jimmy toys with his drink and waits.

“OK, right. The point. Well, um, do you think Cas would ever be, uhm… open to the idea? Again?”

“The idea of what?” Jimmy frowns, perplexed.

“Marriage. Getting married. Cas. Getting married again.”

“I think it's possible,” Jimmy says slowly, studying Dean’s face as though he's a particularly interesting specimen at a museum. “With the right person. At the right time.”

“OK. I... OK. Right then. Well. I was wondering if…” Dean trails off, berating himself internally. If he can't even work up the nerve to ask Jimmy… _OK, Dean. Balls of steel. Go for it._ “I wanted to ask your permission for something. And it might seem a bit weird, me even thinking to ask, but since Cas has been through some shit and you're super protective of him, it would feel wrong not to. I could ask your dad, but I value my life and I don't think Cas would like that too much…”

There's a surprised glint in Jimmy’s eyes, a spark of understanding, and he sits and waits patiently for Dean to continue, looking only a little dazed by what he's figured out.

“I was wondering…” He suddenly feels calmer, and clings to that feeling, taking a deep breath and going for it. “I want to ask Cas… I want to ask Cas to marry me.” There. It's out. He's said it. He's staring resolutely at the beer bottle his hands but can feel Jimmy’s gaze boring into the side of his head. “I want him as my husband, as my everything. The kids too. I want us to be a family, and you have my word I'll look after them. I've even seen a ring that would be perfect for him, and I think I know how I want to ask… So I just wondered… I hoped… that it would be OK. With you. Jimmy.”

*

Christmas Day dawns bright and cold, and the boys are awake early as everyone suspected. They come bounding into Dean and Cas' bedroom at just before six, begging to know if Santa has been, as their parents sit up and wipe their eyes sleepily and say they don't know but why don't the boys run and check under the tree? Dean smiles at their retreating backs and allows Cas to wrap an arm around his waist and drag him back down for another five minutes sleep. Five minutes is all they get: Lexie and Billie can be heard messing noisily with the presents and Cas is up and out of bed at lightning speed to stop them opening anything before he can get there to take a photo. He says it's a tradition of theirs, to have a photograph of the boys beside the tree on Christmas morning. Dean watches Cas leave the room, tugging a sweater on and hopping one leg into a pair of sweats simultaneously, almost falling over as he does. He sends a grin back over his shoulder and that's Dean's cue to follow him. He doesn't want to miss a single second of his kids' excitement on Christmas Day.

By the time they've reined in the children and got them to go back to their rooms and dress, Sam and Jess have got up, Jimmy has arisen from where he slept on the sofa and straightened out the living room, and Cas is making them all coffee and pancakes in the kitchen. He's much more relaxed now, completely different to the jittery mess that he was when they first arrived, and he and Sam even trade relaxed smiles as the younger Winchester helps him plate everything up and arrange the table for everyone to sit down. Cas doesn't eat much; he prefers looking after everyone and taking photos on his old, broken phone which Dean knows will be grainy and blurred but that Cas will love anyway.

Eventually, they all gather in the living room and open their gifts. Cas puts on a CD of Christmas music and Billie dances about, singing along to it. Lexie sits quietly at Dean’s side and helps him open various presents from Sam and Jess, Jimmy, and Cas. They laugh and joke and smile as they open presents, Mary gets passed around everyone for cuddles, and the boys are in their element. It's the best Christmas Dean can ever imagine having.

He can't remember the last time he was so spoiled: the twins get him some pyjamas with Superman print on the pants and ‘Super Dad’ emblazoned on the front and he hugs them tight as they both giggle and grin. Sam and Jess have got him a photo album and Sam has brought a box full of Dean’s old belongings from his apartment back home. He gets misty-eyed looking through everything and has to set the box aside for later, and plans to look through it with Cas and tell him more about his life before the Novak family. Jimmy has outdone himself and has got Dean collectors editions of all Cas’ novels, which makes Cas blush and gape as Dean admits he's been slowly working his way through them and is loving every word. Cas, in turn, has spoiled him with his gift: a record player and five vinyls. Led Zeppelin and Metallica’s greats, and Dean fingers the records in awe.

“Cas, where did you… These must have cost…”

“You always complain there's never anything good to listen to around here.” Cas is now curled up on the sofa in a Christmas sweater with Lexie on his lap. He smiles warmly at Dean and adds, “Now you can show me what real music is like.”

“Thank you, Cas. I don't know what to say.” He crosses the room and snuggles down next to his partner, kissing him on the forehead. “Open yours.”

Dean managed to find two things for Cas. One is a camera, a second-hand Olympus with a leather strap, because they don't have many pictures of them all together and Dean has decided to remedy that. Cas’ blurry phone images have had their day. The second is heavy, wrapped awkwardly and Dean has set it on the table behind them and has to drag Cas up off the sofa to open it. He stands behind him and wraps his arms around Cas’ waist as he pulls the wrapping off, and feels rather than hears his sharp intake of breath as he sees what's inside.

“You don't have to use it,” Dean murmurs into his ear. “But I thought it might inspire you. Plus I just really liked how it looked, so even if you never use it I thought it would look great just on a table or something, and…”

“Dean.” Cas turns in his arms and kisses him on the mouth, deeply. “I love it. I love it so much. You're… thank you. You're the best.”

It's a vintage typewriter, one Dean had to hunt high and low for but eventually found online and had shipped to Jimmy’s address. In Cas’ second book, his main character had been a writer and had used an old typewriter, black with bronze keys, to write his masterpiece. The one Dean has bought for Cas is as close a replica as he could manage, and it sits proudly in its nest of wrapping paper, just begging to be used. Cas kisses him again, arms tightly around his neck, and Dean knows he did good. He's bought the kids useful gifts, under Cas’ instruction: crayons and new schoolbags, but he's also snuck in colouring books and Lego, because he wants to make good on his promise months ago to spoil the children in any way he can.

But his favourite present by a long shot is one that Sam gives him later, when Cas and Jimmy are entertaining the children, letting them make faces at Mary and tell Jess all about kindergarten. He hands Dean a plain white envelope with his name on in untidy scrawl, and when he turns it over the seal of the envelope is stained with grease. He feels a jolt in his chest as he realises who it's from, and opens it with shaking fingers. Inside it it a Polaroid. One photograph with no commentary, but Dean doesn't care about that. Because the picture says all the words that a letter never could. It's his car, his beautiful, sleek black Impala, lovingly restored and renovated, looking like her old self, and sitting proudly beneath a sign that reads _Singer Auto Salvage._ His breath catches in his throat and he covers his mouth with his hand. Bobby fixed his car. Bobby took a picture and sent it to him for Christmas. Bobby fixed Baby.

“Dean?” Cas appears and dumps a handful of mugs in the sink. “Are you OK?”

Sam squeezes his forearm and leaves them alone, and Dean wraps an arm around his lover. “Look. I need to introduce you to someone special. This is my Baby. Bobby… she’s with Bobby.” He’s awash with memories, and Cas just hugs him and they stare at the photo together, entranced.

Later, Jimmy sidles over to him as Cas is putting the finishing touches on dinner, and stands with him for a while as Lexie doses contently against Dean’s chest.

“Did you find a ring?”

“Yeah. It's perfect.” Dean strokes Lexie’s hair. “I hope he likes it.”

“He will.” Jimmy hands Dean a mug of warm cocoa. “Have you decided when you're going to do it?”

“Not yet.” Dean watches Cas as he mills around the living room, making sure Jess and Sam have everything they need and picking up wrapping paper only to fold it neatly and put it all in a bag to save for the future. Dean smiles; it's quirks like this that make him love Cas even more. “But I know it just has to be completely perfect.”

*

Sam and Jess leave on New Year's Eve, and Cas actually hugs Sam goodbye and walks them all to the car. Sam, shocked, hugs him back and it's as though they're almost friends. Jess bids them all a tearful goodbye, kissing the children and hugging Dean tightly, telling him not to be a stranger and that they will come to visit again soon. Mary cries as Dean kisses her goodbye, and they all stand on the doorstep and wave as the taxi takes the Winchester family away, to the airport, and Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, sighing.

“I miss them already.”

“You sap,” Dean kisses his hair. “I love you.”

That night, they watch from the decking as fireworks go off over the water, the children asleep in their beds, and they kiss as the clock strikes midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left, you guys. This has been an incredible story to write, and I couldn't have done it without your support. So, genuinely, thank you ♥


	29. Chapter 29

They're sitting up on a dune near the house, watching everyone on the beach below. Jimmy playing with Billie, Jess holding baby Mary on her lap while Lexie clambers up into the chair next to them and stares in undisguised love at his cousin, taking her hand and grinning ear-to-ear, and Sam is tending to the barbecue on the decking at the house. It's early March, the weather is warming up slowly, the evenings growing just a bit longer and the nights aren't quite as cold as they were a couple of weeks ago. Winter is thawing out to make way for spring, for new beginnings, and Dean feels a rush of excitement so strong he simply has to reach out and wrap his arm around Cas’ shoulders.

“So. You and Sam seem to be getting along better.”

Cas shrugs, nods, then shrugs again. “I guess we are. He's not so bad. I guess.”

Dean grins and presses a kiss to his temple. “No. He ain't. And I know it's not easy for you, Cas, so thanks. For making the effort. I really appreciate it.”

“He's not horrible.” Cas smirks up at Dean. “That's probably the best you're going to get out of me.”

“Then it'll do.” Dean watches as Sam expertly flips burgers and turns sausages, knowing Cas will gripe about them being burned, or unhealthy, or too raw, or _something_ just because Sam is making them. But after having a moan for a minute or two he'll sit down and eat quietly, because that's what he does. Gives Sam a hard time then shuts up. And Sam has come to accept it and even warm to it. It's their uneasy truce, and that's just how it is; Dean can't ask for more, not in his opinion. Not with so much water under the bridge. They all just need time.

“It's such a shame Bobby couldn't make it,” Cas muses, watching Billie hand a colouring book to Jimmy. “I so want to meet him.”

“I know. I want you to meet him too.” Dean sighs. “I guess he just wasn't ready yet. Maybe next time.”

“I hope so. Or we could go to him…?” It's a tentative suggestion, one Dean can't agree to yet because that would mean going home, and going home would mean seeing all the people from his old life that made it so hellish. It would mean _Cas_ seeing all those people. He shudders at the thought. Not yet.

They both watch Lexie lean over and stroke Mary’s hair, grinning widely when she flashes him a gummy smile, and he feels Cas grin in turn and pulls him in a little closer. Then that grin slowly fades, and he knows his lover is thinking the same thing he is. He swallows, not wanting to bring the subject up. But he asks anyway.

“When do we get Lexie’s next set of test results back?”

Cas leans his head on Dean’s shoulder and sighs. “Couple days. They'll probably run another set of bloods after that, that's what Dr Bradbury said over the phone.”

“And what if they…”

“Don't. Don't, Dean. I can't. I can't think about what it could all mean.” Cas snuffles a little and a wave of guilt pulses through him at upsetting his boyfriend. Damn. He shouldn't have said anything. “I've been Googling things I shouldn't and Dr Bradbury seems pretty optimistic but…” He lifts his head and turns wide, scared eyes on Dean. “What if something is wrong with our baby?”

“There won't be. He’ll be just fine.” Dean pulls Cas close again, viciously shoving down the creeping feeling of anxiety as it tries to climb his spine. Lexie _will_ be just fine. It's just a bad virus, Dr Bradbury had said at the start. Just the flu, it's just hitting him hard. But his blood results in January hadn't been great, and now they're waiting on a second set after Lexie got sick again two weeks ago and it looked like whooping cough. It wasn't, but Dr Bradbury was concerned and that has Dean nervous and on-edge. Lexie hasn't been himself, has been eating less, has been napping more and falling asleep earlier than usual, and has been complaining off and on about soreness in random parts of his body. A few weeks ago he had a nosebleed that didn't want to stop and while that in itself was nothing to worry about it seemed to prompt Dr Bradbury to run more tests. He knows their boy will be fine, he knows it somewhere deep inside himself. They just need it proven to them by the doctors, then they can all move on and stop worrying so much. He kisses Cas slowly, gently, feels him sigh into his mouth then he kisses back.

“I know. I know he will. I mean, look at him.”

Lexie is running about on the beach now, chasing Billie in a game of tag, and they're both shrieking with laughter as Jimmy joins in and tags them both at once. Dean can't help but smile, and a quick glance to his left confirms that Cas is grinning too. They snuggle closer as a chilly breeze sweeps past them, and Dean nuzzles his face into Cas’ hair. He smells of coconut oil and hemp, thanks to some expensive new products Sam got him for Christmas; Cas likes them immensely, in spite of himself, and Dean has grown to love the new scents on him. They watch their family laugh, chatter and play contentedly for a while, happy to sit quietly with each other and not speak, both lost in thought.

Dean has it all planned out. Later, when the sun is setting and they've all eaten and drunk their fill and the kids are sleepy and ready for bed, he's going to ask Cas to go for a walk with him. Probably right down to the rocks he remembers the kids playing on, the day he told Cas how he ended up at the little beach house on the road that leads down to the ocean, and when they get there he's going to do it. He's going to ask Cas to marry him. Down on one knee and everything. He's got the ring stashed in his pocket, in a little black box, and keeps reaching for it in paranoid worry that it's fallen out and he's lost it. He's caught Cas giving him funny looks for doing it, and passed it off as the cold getting to him, hence shoving his hands in his pockets. Ever trusting, Cas just nodded and thought no more of it.

Jimmy knows. Obviously. And so does Sam, which means Jess knows by extension. He told the children only an hour ago that he was going to ask Cas something very special, and that they had to keep it a very big secret. They had grinned, pressed their fingers to their lips, and Dean had messed their hair up and sent them off to play. He had already gently broached the subject of him marrying Cas to them over Christmas, to see how they would react. The most comforting thing about it was the way Billie just grinned at him, and Lexie saying, “Does that mean you'll have the same surname as us? Because you should. Dean Novak sounds nice and then we would all match. Please can I have the last oatmeal cookie?” They had promised to keep it a secret and, to their credit, they had done. Or they'd forgotten entirely, one of the two. The only one completely oblivious to his plan is Cas, and Dean is desperate to keep it that way. He keeps almost tripping himself up and letting the secret out, and he's consoling himself in the knowledge that he only has a few more hours to go. He's already freaked out three times today, twice to Sam and once to Jimmy, paranoid that Cas will say no. Sam had laughed his concerns off in his typical brotherly style, but Jimmy had been more serious. He had taken Dean by the shoulder and told him that if Cas said no he would be utterly pole-axed.

“He loves you, Dean. And when Cas loves someone, that's it. He's in it for the long-haul. He’ll say yes, I promise you. Try not to freak out, try and enjoy the moment if you can.”

If he can. Ha. Fat chance, he's getting more freaked out now just thinking about it. It isn't the commitment thing, absolutely not. It's what he’ll do if Cas _does_ prove their brothers wrong and says no. What then?

Before he can get thinking too deeply, Cas shifts next to him and gazes up, his blue eyes tired and content, sparkling in the early spring sun. “You were gone for a minute. What were you thinking about?”

“Us.” It's the truth. Mostly. “You. The boys.” Other stuff. Something he had found in a pile of papers that Cas had clearly scooped up and forgotten about. Something that had made his eyes mist over with happiness and he had to turn quickly away before Cas caught him smiling and on the verge of tears. He thinks of it now, of what he found, and finds himself smiling as he gazes at Cas.

“We have a pretty awesome family, huh?” Cas nudges him then leans in a bit closer, cuddling, seeking body heat. “Me, you, the boys… and we didn't even know each other this time last year. Isn't that crazy? And now the boys have another father and me… well,” Cas breaks off for a second. “I have you.”

“And I have you, too.” Dean’s arm tightens protectively as he thinks about the leaflet and printout that had fallen out from between two drawings of Billie’s. The printout had some hand-written notes in the margins, and Dean’s breath had caught in his chest as he’d read them. “You saved me, Cas. You know that, right? I was nothing before you. I had nothing.”

Cas plucks a few blades of grass from the ground beside him and winds them through his fingers. “I thought I was happy before you. I thought I was content, just me and the boys. That I wouldn't ever want anyone again, that I didn't have room for someone else. But I wasn't content, Dean. I was lonely, and using the boys as a shield to hide behind. But you… You say I saved you, and I guess that's true. But…” Cas blinks a few times, hurriedly. “I saved myself through saving you. The life I have now, I owe it all to you. I owe my happiness to you. I just hope…” He blinks again, his breath hitching a little. “I hope it lasts. Forever. I'm sure it will, but I just worry, you know? I don't know what the future holds and neither do you, and things are so different for you now. You have your brother, your niece… I can't help it, Dean, I just get scared sometimes. Is that OK?”

He turns large, clear eyes on Dean and no, it isn't OK. It isn't all right that Cas still has these doubts, that nothing Dean says seems to assuage them at all. He isn't upset with Cas for having these worries, but he's upset that he can't seem to wipe them away. He's aware that a silence is stretching between them and that the longer he says nothing at all the more worried Cas is going to be. Already doubt is creeping into the blue eyes he knows so well and Cas’ brows are furrowing. Dean’s right hand finds its way into his pocket and he gently fingers the small box, heart pounding. He's supposed to wait. According to his plan, he's supposed to wait until the evening, until sunset…

Cas sighs and drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder, suddenly seeming downcast. He continues to play with the blades of grass, winding them round his ring finger and Dean watches, mesmerised. It's an unconscious move on Cas’ part; there's no way he can know what Dean is thinking, but if that isn't some sort of sign then what is?

“I know you can't predict anything either. And I know you want forever too.” Cas exhales, a low sigh. “Ignore me, I don't know what's gotten into me. Maybe I'm just tired or something. I was up so late last night writing and then couldn't sleep… I'm sorry, Dean. Ignore me.”

But Dean doesn't ignore him. He nudges Cas to sit up and releases his arm from around his shoulders, trying to ignore the puzzled frown that has descended onto his lover’s face. He's thought about more than just proposing. He's thought about their wedding, about the vows, and in them he plans to promise to look after Cas and to protect him, and in his mind that includes quelling his fears and making him feel as safe and secure as he possibly can. And right now, it seems like Cas feels far from secure, and that means Dean needs to do something about it. His heart is in his throat and his palms are sweating, and when he reaches for Cas’ hand to unwind the grass from his fingers he receives an extremely bemused look in response.

“Dean, is everything OK? You look… what's wrong?”

“I'm fine, Cas.” The wind blows a lock of dark hair across Cas’ forehead and Dean brushes it away, his hand dropping to linger at his lover’s jaw. “I've been fine for a while now, and it's all thanks to you.” Cas smiles in spite of himself, his true, bright smile that reaches his eyes and shows all his teeth with a small amount of gum. His nose wrinkles too, and the corner of his eyes, and _fuck_ Dean loves him so much. “I don't know what to say to convince you I'm not going anywhere. I don't feel like there's much I _can_ say, nothing that I haven't said already.” His left hand finds Cas’ and squeezes as his lover opens his mouth to protest. The sun is peeking out from the cloud it had hidden behind and Cas’ skin glows in the warm light. “Please. Just let me say this. I…”

Oh, god. This is it. He's really going to do it. His right hand comes to his pocket and he retrieves the box, heart pounding so hard he feels like he might be sick. Cas is tilting his head in question, still smiling but a curious frown playing across his handsome face. He grips the box in his hand tightly; Cas hasn't noticed it yet. Inside it is a simple band made of palladium, a metal rare but adequately priced. He knows Cas wouldn't want an expensive ring and the little jewellers in town had been more than happy to help him choose. The owners know Cas through kindergarten and had been overjoyed when Dean told them of his plan to propose. The ring he has finally chosen, after two hours of deliberating, is a thick band with a delicate pattern etched into it. Then he’d had it personalised, engraved, with the constellations of both their star signs, remembering their conversation out on the decking many months ago. That night sticks out so starkly in his mind, when Cas had smiled at him and said his favourite pastime is to count Dean’s freckles. It had seemed fitting, and the finished piece is gorgeous. He only hopes Cas thinks so, too.

“Dean?” Cas prompts and he snaps back to the present, gazing down into Cas’ eyes and suddenly all his panic and fear melts away. His heart rate slows, the band of anxiety around his chest releases, and the blue of Cas’ irises draws him in and grounds him. Reminds him, reminds him of all their months together and how much he loves Cas. Promises him, promises him that he’ll be OK and Cas will be there for him, like he's been there all along. He flicks the ring box open with his thumb, his left hand still holding Cas’ right, and the other man drops his gaze to see what he's doing. When he glances up again his eyes are wide and his face is a shade paler; his fingers tighten on Dean’s and suddenly it's just them, nobody else, alone on the dunes where Dean found his happiness, and nothing else matters.

“Marry me, Cas.” The words come so easily, so naturally, and he's never meant anything more. “Marry me. Let me make you the happiest man alive. There's nothing I can say to convince you that I'm yours but this, this is something I can _do_. That I want to do. That I can't imagine _not_ doing.” He takes a deep breath; Cas is gripping his fingers so tightly that it hurts, his short nails are digging in painfully and will surely leave crescent moon indents in their wake but he doesn't care. “I was going to wait. Was gonna ask you tonight. But…” He lifts the ring box up to show Cas properly and hears a choked little whine in response. “I couldn't wait. Not after hearing you say what you did. You mean _everything_ to me, Cas, everything.”

He promised himself he wouldn't cry. But as one single tear escapes and tracks down his cheek he figures he gets a pass for breaking that promise. Because Cas’ eyes are tear-filled too and he looks more shocked than Dean has ever seen him. He's staring at the ring in awed silence, and Dean wants to give him time. Time to process it all and think about his answer. But patience isn't one of his strong points.

“Baby, say something. Anything. Tell me what you're thinking, please. If you hate the ring I'll get you another. If you don't want to then I… I'll understand. If you…”

“Dean…” Cas’ hand comes up and he goes to touch the ring but doesn't seem to dare. “You… you mean this? You really want to get married to me?”

“Yes, Cas, more than anything. More than I want to draw breath. More than I want to wake up tomorrow. I love you. I need you.”

“But I'm awful,” Cas has silvery tears cutting lines down his cheeks now but he's laughing and _God_ it’s a beautiful sound. “I'm messy and opinionated and I'm a control-freak. I yell at you, I sulk when things don't go my way, I fight with you…”

“And I love you for it all.” Dean is smiling now too, through his emotion, and he lifts their joined hands to place them on his own chest. “And I'm all those things and more. I'm a mess, Cas. I'm anxious and paranoid and I worry too much about everything. And everyone. And I still get scared sometimes.”

“So do I,” Cas can't seem to stop smiling and it's a smile of pure joy, one Dean revels in and wants to look at forever, but it's tinged with… something. “Dean, when I'm with you… nothing seems quite so scary. But…”

But. _But_. Dean goes suddenly light-headed with fear. He had been so sure, so _certain_ Cas would be overjoyed and would say yes. But he's just said _but_ , and that can mean nothing good. He takes a breath and tries not to let his impending heartbreak show on his face.

“Dean, I…” Cas is struggling with his words, swallowing hard and clearly trying to regulate his breathing. He looks anxious, excited, panicky and hopeful all in one go. “I've already _been_ married you know?” Oh. God. Dean swallows a knot of pain as it forms in his throat. “And… it ended so badly. He left us in such an awful way, and I've never stopped wondering if _I_ did that. If I ruined everything somehow. What if…” Cas turns big, worried blue eyes on Dean. “What if I do it again? What if I wreck everything again? I couldn't take losing you, it would destroy me, and-”

“Stop.” Dean’s voice is thick with emotion. “Cas, I promise you. I will never leave you. I will never abandon you. I will never push you away or make you feel like it's your fault if we argue. I will never, ever leave you and the boys alone. That I can promise you, I really can.”

“I know,” Cas is smiling again, shaking, nervous, but the hope in his eyes is now overshadowing every other emotion he's clearly flooded with. “I do know that. I know that if we do this it means forever. Oh, God… I want to do this so badly, I didn't know how much I wanted it until right now…”

“So, do it.” Dean shifts so he's on his knees, takes both of Cas’ hands in his and the ring box presses urgently between their palms. “Do it, Cas. If it’s what you want, then I'll make it happen for us. I want it, I want it all with you. Two-point-four kids and a house, and a dog, and a white picket fence, and Sunday brunches… waking up next to you when we’re in our sixties and complaining that our knees don't work like they used to. Being in our seventies and eighties and reminiscing about today, the boys coming to see us in the old folks home with their own families…”

Fuck. Now he's really going to cry, and Cas looks wrecked and desperate and so, so in love if the sparkle in his eyes is anything to go by

“So… will you? Will you marry me?” He bites the bullet and asks his question again, for the final time, thinks, hopes, prays he knows the answer. But his heart is in his mouth again and Cas is taking so long to answer, almost an entire second has passed and…

“Yes,” Cas laughs again, letting go of Dean and wiping his cheeks with his fingers, pressing his other palm against Dean’s chest and gripping his shirt tightly. “Yes, of course I will, Dean. I want everything you just said and more. _Yes_.”

“ _Fuck._ I love you, Cas,” Dean almost bowls Cas over with the force of his embrace, and the pair of them collapse on their sides against the dune, laughing and kissing and Dean gropes for Cas’ hand. “I hope it fits, please let it fit. Do you like it?”

Cas’ hand trembles as Dean holds it and pushes the ring onto his finger, where it fits perfectly and they both stare at it with starry eyes.

“I love it. I love it so much, Dean. Thank you.” They kiss again then Dean takes the ring off Cas’ hand to show him the engravings and they both laugh and smile and lie in each other's arms as Cas says ‘yes’ over and over, louder each time, and Dean grins so hard his cheeks ache.

“Daddy!” An excited, happy voice comes from above them, near the house, and a second later Lexie is sliding down the dune on his backside to land in a heap between them, giggling and smiling. “What are you laughing about?” He addresses Dean, who grabs him in a pretend headlock and ruffles his hair as he squeals.

“We’ll tell you back at the house. We have some exciting news to tell you all. Come on. Race you.” He stands up with the kid under his arm, a little awkwardly as his knees remind him he isn't a spring chicken any more and extends a hand to Cas. To his future husband. Lexie runs ahead and they walk back across the dune holding hands, unable to wipe the grins from their faces.

*

Cas has never been hugged so much or so tightly, Dean is sure. Sam had pulled him close in an awkward, one-armed embrace but after a minute they had both relaxed against each other and Cas had lifted his arms to hug back. And when they pulled away they were both smiling.

“Seriously, so happy for you both.” Sam smiles and Cas blushes and grins helplessly. “Thanks, Cas. For making my brother so happy.”

“You're welcome,” Cas nudges him with an elbow. “Thanks, too. For, you know. Pushing him away.” Sam balks in shock but there's something warm in Cas’ words and written on his face. “I would never have found him otherwise. And I'm glad we can be friends now. I think… I think we’ll make a great family.”

“I think you're right.” Sam smiles, Cas smiles, and Dean huffs out a disbelieving laugh to which they both turn and stare at him. He's got Mary in his arms and Billie is trying to climb his leg to look at his baby cousin.

“You two are unreal. Sammy, stop hogging my fiancé. I think Jess wants a turn…”

“Daddy!” The word leaves Billie’s mouth in exasperation, and every adult in the room turns to look at the kid in surprise. Billie is glaring up at Dean, tugging at his jeans and pouring. “ _I_ want to see Mary, daddy. Please can I? Please can I hold her? Please, daddy, _please?_ ”

Dean doesn't know what to say. Billie has never called him ‘daddy’ before. It's always Dean or Dee, never ‘daddy’. But now it comes out so naturally, as though he's always been saying it, and Dean ruffles the kid’s hair and pulls him close against his thigh, feeling like every piece of his life is falling into place.

“Of course you can, kiddo. Go sit on the couch, I'll give her to you.”

As Dean arranges Billie and Mary on the sofa - along with Lexie who climbs up and cuddles up to his brother - Cas is dragged to one side by Jimmy, who wears a strange expression. It's a stilted mixture of excitement, exhaustion, and trepidation.

“Jimmy, what's wrong?” Cas frowns, suddenly concerned. “You're happy for me, right?”

Jimmy stares, wide-eyed, then pulls Cas to him in a crushing hug. “You idiot. Of course I'm happy for you. I'm over the damn moon for you, and I'm glad he finally did it. I've been waiting for months!”

“You've… what?”

Jimmy grins, now impish. “He asked my permission, didn't he tell you that?”

“He did what?!” Cas punches Jimmy on the shoulder half-heartedly. “You're joking.”

“I am not. A while back now. Before Christmas. You should ask him about it,” Jimmy nods to Dean who is sitting on the couch next to the twins and Mary, grinning down at them all, totally smitten. Jimmy grins at his twin. “What would you have done if I'd say no, he wasn't allowed to ask you?”

“Drowned you in the ocean,” Cas says easily. “I could pull off being you, we don't really need a spare, do we?”

Jimmy smirks, then tilts his head questioningly. “Have you talked to him about… you know, _stuff_ yet? The thing we talked about last week?”

“Nope.” Cas grins as he watches Dean. “Not yet.”

“Well, are you gonna?”

“Of course. Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Tomorrow? But how about…”

“Jimmy. Tomorrow. Or the day after. Or _whenever_ , it's not like I need to rush. We have our whole lives to look forward to now, this can wait a while, surely?”

Jimmy looks at his brother for a long while before answering. He and Cas have always been inseparable. Cas grew up fiercely independent of everyone but his twin and Jimmy was always right by his side. They looked like little carbon copies of each other all the way through kindergarten and right up to college. Even after, when they started dressing differently and really came into their own people still couldn't tell them apart. Even when Cas was with Cole he still looked and acted a lot like Jimmy - just a more muted version. But now, Cas really is in his own element and it suits him. He's branched out, away from Jimmy and towards Dean and happiness looks so good on him. It lends a flush to his cheeks, a sparkle to his eyes, and he even holds himself differently. He has more confidence in himself and his family, and he smiles so much more than Jimmy has ever seen him. He's leaving Jimmy on the sidelines to finally start a life of his own where he's lifted up by his partner instead of weighed down, and that realisation almost brings Jimmy to tears. Maybe, as it turns out, he's the one with the attachment issues. He's been so immersed in Cas’ family for so long that he hasn't been interested in forming his own, and suddenly he feels like there isn't quite room for him any more. That the space they want him to take up is a little smaller. And it's a bitter pill to swallow, despite his happiness for Cas. He only hopes he hasn't missed his chance for a little family of his own.

“Jimmy?” Cas is frowning again. “You sure you're all right?”

“Yeah, Cas, I'm good. It's just… weird, you know? It's always been us. Well, apart from the little interlude with Cole.” Jimmy slings an arm around his twin. “And now I have to let you go.”

“You don't.” Cas’ voice is firm and matter-of-fact. “I'll always be right here, Jimmy. You and me, it's for life. You're stuck with me.” He glances down at the ring gleaming on his left hand. “Only downside for you is I guess you're stuck with Dean now, too.”

“Yeah. Guess you guys are the package deal.” Jimmy doesn't mean it to come out so choked and berates himself viciously. This is Cas’ night and he's spoiling it by being so selfish.

“You've got it backwards.” Cas reaches up and takes Jimmy’s hand where it's resting on his shoulder, his brother’s arm warm and secure around him. “We’re the package deal. It's Dean I feel sorry for. Stuck with us for the rest of his life.”

Dean laughs, loudly, at something Billie is saying and the elder Novak twins break out into identical smiles.

“You know,” Jimmy tilts his head. “I think he'll cope just fine.”

*

Cas, panting, stretches out on his back and runs his hands through his sweat-drenched hair as Dean crawls up his body to kiss him. They embrace gently, kissing slowly, tongues exploring the hidden crevices of each other's mouths as Dean settles his weight comfortably on top of his lover’s body. He cups Cas’ face, pressing sweet kisses to his lips and cheeks, licking into his mouth and whispering words of love against his skin.

“Mmm. That was so good, Dean.” Cas smiles, laughs, wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. “But I'm sticky. And now, so are you.”

“Don't care. Could stay like this forever.” Dean shifts then grimaces. “Actually, I couldn't. This is kinda gross.”

Cas laughs gently. “Kinda.”

“Be right back.” Dean pads out of the room and Cas stretches out languidly on the bed, still riding the combined high of his orgasm and Dean’s proposal earlier that evening. He holds his left hand up in the air and turns it from one side to the other, admiring the silvery glint of the band adoring his finger. It feels strange to wear a ring again, but it feels so right. He never thought this would happen for him again. He had been beyond shocked when Dean had asked him, and although he had been giddy with excitement at the time it's only really starting to sink in now. He's engaged. They're getting married. A bubble of joy rises up inside his chest and he laughs out loud, ecstatically happy. He doesn't have a clue what their wedding day will be like, but he already knows it will be the best day of his life.

“What are you grinning about?” Dean comes back in, naked, all tanned skin and firm lines of muscle in all the right places, and Cas watches him cross the room towards the bed. His softened cock hangs heavy between his legs and Dean follows his gaze. “Oh, ready to go again are we?”

“No.” Cas smirks then groans as he sits up, the drying come on his stomach tacky and tugging at his skin. “I was thinking about us.”

“Oh?” Dean flops down on the bed after cleaning Cas up and wraps his arm around his shoulders, tugging him close and pulling the sheets up. “What about us?”

“About this.” He wriggles his hand in Dean’s face, flashing his ring, and Dean grins happily. “I love it. I love you.”

They share another kiss, then the bedroom door creaks and Lexie appears, dragging a sleepy Billie behind him.

“Daddy, can we sleep in here tonight? Please, daddy, please?”

“Yes, of course.” Dean pushes the sheets back and the boys clamber on, Billie snuggling down at Dean’s side, wrapped tightly in his arms, and Lexie lying down on Cas’ chest.

“Are you staying forever, daddy? Are you getting married?” Lexie pillows his head on Cas’ chest and addresses Dean, burrowing close and sighing.

“Yes, sweetheart. We are.” Dean is almost asleep, exhaustion lacing his words. “Are you happy about that?”

“Yes.” Lexie nods and smiles sleepily. “So you'll be husbands. Like daddy and Cole.”

Cas’ breath hitches in his chest at his son’s words. _Cole._ Not father, not dad or daddy. Cole.

“Do you remember him, Lexie?” He brushes his son’s hair off his face and feels sorrow in his heart when the boy shakes his head. “Do you remember Cole? He loved you very much.”

“No. But you do, so it's OK.” And those are words wiser than they kid’s age, and Cas hugs him close.

“I do. I loved him a lot, you know that? And now I love Dean.” Cas turns to look at his partner, his future husband, who has now closed his eyes and is resting his cheek on Billie’s dark head. “And if possible, I love him even more.”

“Good.” Lexie snuggles closer and Cas wraps the blankets more snugly around them. “Miss Harvelle says that people who love each other should get married. Can I get married one day?”

“Yes, of course.” Cas smiles, his heart full of love for his son.

“Good.” Lexie yawns hugely and his small body slowly starts to relax into sleep. “I love you, daddy.”

“Love you too. Sleep well.”

Lexie is heavy on his chest and Cas wraps his arms around him protectively. His boys are growing up, and he doesn't much care for it. He wants them to stay young and carefree forever, Peter Pan-like, and never have to worry like adults do over silly things like bills and taxes. And over not-so-silly things like work, illness, or losing people. He watches Dean for a while, sleeping soundly next to him with an arm around Billie; they had both dozed off during his conversation with Lexie and he studied both their faces for a while. He traces his new ring with his thumb and takes in the freckles covering Dean’s nose, the dark lashes lying on tanned cheeks, and the beautiful swell of his bottom lip. The man who is to be his husband. Castiel smiles. And he thinks back to something he said on the dune earlier, before he knew what Dean had planned for them.

_I saved myself through saving you._

No truer words have ever left his lips.

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks! Well, for now: part 2 is already in the making, but it will be a little while before I get started on posting. I actually feel SO sad posting this, like I'm losing a friend or something, isn't that weird?! This started out with a 4/5 chapter arc, and grew into so much more.
> 
> I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read, commented, messaged me on [Tumblr](http://coffeeandcas.tumblr.com) or Facebook, and genuinely been so supportive while I've written this story. I've never enjoyed writing something this much, and I love this family and their little world to pieces. You know where to find me if you ever want to talk at me (or yell at me!) about my work ♥
> 
> Extra thanks go out to **morningstarcas** for giving me the line 'I saved myself through saving you' as a prompt, and allowing me to work it into this fic. I knew it would work perfectly in the proposal, especially coming from Cas.
> 
> Thank you again to all you beautiful people, and I know Dean, Cas and the boys will be seeing you all again soon. So much love ♥♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/coffeeandcas) if you want to come and talk to me. Please do, I love hearing from you all.


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